My Empire of Dirt
by cucoo4cas
Summary: College AU. Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Dorothy share an apartment in Chicago while going to school. Dean is having trouble making it work with Lisa, Sam is in an unhealthy relationship with Luci, and there's quite a bit of hurt/comfort. Destiel. Eventual Sabriel. Light Kevin/Anna WIP TRIGGER WARNINGS: Domestic Abuse, Attempted Suicide, Alcohol Abuse
1. Running Late

"Son of a bitch," he said under his breath. Dean Winchester watched angrily as the train rolled away from the Blue Line stop at Western without him on it. If he didn't have a test in forty minutes, he'd march his tired ass right back to his apartment. Sure, he'd have to ignore Charlie's nagging, but it'd be worth it. His geeky roommate was lucky enough to have Fridays off of school and would have nothing better but to heckle him about missing class again. And her girlfriend, Dorothy, would just watch and laugh. He checked his watch. Thirty-five minutes till the test. Shit.

Immediately, Dean starting running to campus on foot. It was only ten blocks away. He could make it. He'd better make it. After bombing his last history test, he couldn't risk being late. Running through the throng people milling about the Chicago sidewalks, he started to feel the cold city air freezing his lungs.

If Lisa drove by and offered him a ride to class right now, he wouldn't even worry about the fight they'd had last night. He'd just be so grateful to get out of the cold and off to class on time. Hell, even if Sammy rode by on his bicycle, Dean would willingly hop on the handlebars just to get to school. This test was the difference between having to repeat the class, and therefore add an extra semester to his schedule, and finally getting the humanities requirement out of the way. Pumping his legs faster, he dodged several men in suits waiting for a light to change.

Finally, in a moment of total futility and being stopped at a red light, he prayed that anyone, even Luci, passed him by with a mode of transportation faster than his own two feet. The red light seemed to taunt him as he waited for the next available break in traffic to make a run for it. He knew wishing for Luci to show up made him much more desperate than he'd like. If he'd just studied for that last test, he wouldn't be in this position.

And he hated Luci. He didn't care if that guy, if he could even be called that, was the love of his little brother's life. Luci was a total asshole. Dean had gotten into more than one fight with his feminist classmates over that son of a bitch. He hated Luci. Not because Luci was transgender, not because Luci had gone through a tremendous identity crisis, but because and only because Luci was a certifiable douchebag. Luci was male identified, but the dude was seriously a bitch. This standpoint had gotten him tons of lecturing about sexism, but really, Dean would gladly have transgender/transsexual friends. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that Luci was bossy, pushy, and had the ego to rival most celebrities.

But most importantly, he totaled Dean's car last summer. If he ever spoke to that asshole again, it would be too soon. It stung even worse that Sam had paid for the damages through money he had gradually borrowed from Dean. Still, if Luci rolled up in a car before Dean got to campus, it wouldn't take much for him to swallow his pride and ask for a ride.

Luckily, Dean got to school with five minutes to spare. He sprinted to his classroom, trying desperately not to knock into any students. A rally was happening outside University Hall, but Dean didn't pay any mind. He needed to make this test.

As he rushed into his class and let his backpack slide to the floor, he grabbed the test sheet as it was handed to him from the front row. The first question read: In what year was the Declaration of Sentiments written and in what town? 1848, Providence. 1858, Seneca Falls. 1858, Providence. 1848, Seneca Falls. Dean stared up from the page and fought the urge to slam his head into the desk. Just because he made it to his test on time didn't mean he knew what the hell would be on it. Bullshitting his answers and finishing last, Dean was never so glad for the start of a weekend in his life.


	2. Date Night

Dean passed by Sam in the stairwell of their apartment building on his way back from most likely failing his test.

"Hey, Sam," he said, "Where you off to?" Sam rushed off, shouting a quick "Luci's" over his shoulder. Dean continued upstairs assuming he wouldn't be seeing Sam till the next day if he was lucky. As he opened the door to his apartment, he heard Charlie and Dorothy come rushing out of their bedroom.

"Hi," he said, closing the door behind them.

Charlie asked instantly, "How was your test? Did it go okay? Did you study this time?" Dean sighed and threw his backpack and jacket on a chair at the table.

He sat across from his stuff and said, "It sucked. It sucked. And I tried." Charlie knocked Dean's bag and jacket to the floor, earning a glare from him, and sat down.

"Dean—"she started.

He shook his head, "The only reason I took this stupid class is because you said it would be good for me."

"Women's History is good for you."

"Sure, if I learned anything," he argued.

"If you ever went to class, you might actually learn something," she countered.

He rolled his eyes, "What is there to learn? Women had some bad shit for a long time, now it's better." Dorothy scoffed and retreated to her room.

Charlie stared at Dean, "Are you serious? Now it's better? Yeah, it's better than it was, but oh my goodness—Yeah, you need to go to class more. Badly."

He sighed loudly and said, "Yes, Mom."

Charlie stood up and said, "Well, I'm going to put on The Hobbit for when Ben gets here. Ben is still coming over, right?" Dean nodded.

It was really lucky Charlie and Dorothy didn't have to work tonight. Though Charlie's manager at the comic book store absolutely adored her and basically let her make her own schedule, it was nice to have people to babysit Ben so Dean and Lisa could go out for once. Part of Dean was jealous of Charlie. She got to hang out with Ben and her girlfriend in perfect peace. Dean was already gearing up for battle with Ben's mom. Lisa had been at him all week to take her out, but he wasn't expecting the date to soften the arguments much.

Dean hopped in the shower and hoped he'd be done and dry by the time Lisa came by.

By the time Dean was done getting dressed, Charlie was already interrogating six-year-old Ben about his favorite videogames and if he'd ever read The Lord of the Rings. Ben seemed to like Charlie and Dorothy enough, which relaxed Dean somewhat. When he saw Lisa wearing a black cocktail dress, he started to rethink his AC/DC shirt a bit.

"Hey, Lisa," he said, reaching for her hand. Instead, she dodged his touch by gesturing to the door.

"You ready?" she asked. He nodded. She hadn't said anything about his shirt, so he figured he was in the clear. He followed her out to her beat up blue civic and missed his baby with a fierce passion.

She was in the shop, still awaiting parts to heal her. 1967 Chevy Impala parts weren't exactly cheap or common, and it had taken some serious convincing for Crowley to even put the order in when he insisted on paying in cash. He didn't trust the guy as far as he could throw him, and he especially didn't trust him with his baby, but Dean really didn't have the time to put into her like he wanted. If she wasn't ready by the end of the school year and graduation if he was lucky enough to pass his classes, he fully anticipated breaking her out of the shop and fixing her himself.

As it was, they needed Lisa's piece of crap car to get around. They sat in silence to where ever they were going. The air strangled them with the jagged shards of unspoken thoughts and emotion.

Finally, Lisa asked, "Did you think about what I said at all?"

He answered, "I did. And I know you want us to move in together, but I'm really needed at my place." Another long silence filled the car. Dean idly considered jumping out of the car. They weren't going very fast, and he was sick of being suffocated by the corpse of their relationship.

"You know I don't want us to move in together just because of Ben, right? I do actually want to live with you," she said. He nodded acknowledgement. He wasn't ready to move out with her, though. Some days, he felt like he was only still dating Lisa because he loved Ben so much.

Hesitantly, he asked, "Hey, Lisa, umm, where are we going?"

She sighed in exasperation, "You don't remember? Wait, you did make reservations, didn't you?" Dean knew he must have been pulling off his best impression of a deer in the headlights. Thankfully, his phone rang before he could try to bullshit his way out of being completely fucked.

"Charlie?" he answered. He noticed Lisa stiffen.

"Hey, Dean," Dorothy answered, "I'm using Charlie's phone. We're at the hospital."

"What?!" Dean shouted. Lisa shot him a worried look.

"No, Dean, it's not Ben," Dorothy explained.

She paused and then said, "I told you we shouldn't have called him. It's just an ankle. We could've just taken care of it at home."

Charlie said something to her that made her say to Dean, "Charlie thinks you should know that Sam's in the hospital. He just twisted his ankle. It's not even that bad."

"What happened?" he asked.

He mouthed to Lisa, "It's Sam." She visibly relaxed.

"I don't know," Dorothy answered, "He said something about tripping down a flight of stairs. I have no clue. Oh. Charlie says you need to come to the hospital so we can admit Sam since he's only a freshman and you're his official guardian."

"Right," Dean said, "We'll be right there." He hung up and pictured Sam falling down a flight of stairs. Stupid kid. He told Lisa about the situation and remained in uncomfortable silence all the way to the campus hospital.

Luckily, Sam's ankle was only sprained, and Charlie had overreacted, but Lisa was still less than thrilled to find Ben sitting with them in the waiting room. Dean didn't know what she had expected them to do. It's not like they could have left him back at the apartment by himself. Still, date night ended before it even began. He hugged Ben goodbye, telling him, "Be good for your mom, okay?" Ben nodded quickly and followed his mom out to her stupid car.

Regardless of the problems he and Lisa had, Dean knew he couldn't leave Lisa. He loved Ben too much to be able to say goodbye.


	3. At the Roadhouse

After class on Monday, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Dorothy met up at the bar just off campus called The Roadhouse. As they walked in the door, Ellen stopped wiping down the bar long enough to wave.

"Hey, guys. How's class going, Dean?" she asked. Dean rolled his eyes and followed the rest to their usual table, a circular booth in the back corner of the bar. Ellen resumed wiping with a satisfied smirk on her face. The four of them sat down, and right away, Jo brought out three beers and a root beer for Sam.

"You know, Jo," he said, "I could probably pass for 21."

Jo smiled sweetly, "Don't make me start carding you guys." Sam accepted his root beer graciously. He propped his wrapped ankle up with a wince across booth. Dean looked at Sam's ankle out of the corner of his eye as he shoved his backpack to the floor.

"And you did that tripping up the stairs?" he asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, and…?"

"We live on the second floor. It's only one flight of stairs," he said, "You twisted your ankle on one flight of stairs. I know you're not the most graceful kid, but damn."

"What does the amount of stairs in our building have anything to do with—"

Dean's phone rang loudly. It was Cassie. His heart stopped for a second and not in a good way. He always worried Cassie would call to tell him how she got badly injured while in training or something equally devastating.

He answered her call, "Hi."

"Dean!" she said loudly. There was quite a bit of static on her end. He wasn't quite surprised since she was currently in Germany, and she was using a pretty crappy cell phone.

"Hey, Cassie. What's up?" he asked.

She said, "I'm coming home soon." That was certainly unexpected. Cassie had been in the army for a little under a year, so her coming home had been pretty far from Dean's mind.

"What?" he asked, excited.

"Oh, shit," she said, voice muffled.

Then, the line went dead.

"Cassie?" Dean said, checking his phone.

When he saw they'd been disconnected, he muttered, "Dammit."

Charlie raised her eyebrows at him. He was about to explain when his phone rang again.

He picked up instantly and said, "Cassie?"

"Uh, no," Lisa said.

"Oh, hey, Lisa. I thought is was—"

"Cassie, yeah. Is she why you don't want to move in? Never mind, that's not why I called."

"Wait, what? No, I—" he stammered.

"I need you to watch Ben tonight; I have to work," she said.

Dean thanked whatever powers-that-be that he had enough money saved up from working over the summer with Benny at Rufus' garage that he didn't have to work during the school year. It helped that Sam and Dean had inherited money from their parents' life insurance policies and were able to use a trust fund that their mom had gotten from her father, so they did not have to worry about paying for school or housing. Still, anything else had to come out of pocket, and Dean had been lucky enough to get on Rufus' good side over the summer.

"Sure," he answered quickly, "And I'm just not ready to move in. It has nothing to do with Cassie." Sam eyed Dean and shared a confused glance with Charlie.

Lisa sighed in Dean's ear; "I'm not getting into this over the phone." She quickly told him to pick up Ben by 6pm and hung up. He pocketed his phone quickly.

Charlie glanced at Dorothy and fixed Dean with a stare, "Umm, Dean? What?"

Dean got up from his spot on their circle booth and said, "Cassie said she's coming home."

Before anyone could ask anything more, he quickly walked over the where his friend, Benny, was playing foosball against some kid with tousled black hair and bright blue eyes who was staring at Dean with enough intensity that Benny scored against the guy completely uncontested by any of the miniature players. It was seriously unnerving.

Dean walked to Benny's side and said, "Nice shot." Benny opponent dropped his gaze from Dean awkwardly. Was it legal to have eyes that blue?

"You want to play next, Winchester?" Benny asked him. Dean looked over at Sam, Charlie, and Dorothy who were alternating between looking at him and talking amongst themselves. He knew they wouldn't come over since, for whatever reason, they didn't like Benny.

Dean answered, "Sure."

He only felt slightly guilty for using Benny as a human shield. He hadn't told them about Lisa pressuring him to move in, because he knew he didn't want to, and frankly it was his problem to deal with, but damn, he didn't want to talk about it now. Just before Benny won what was probably the easiest and most one sided game of foosball known to man, Dean's phone rang. He didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Dean! Finally! I hate my stupid phone," Cassie said.

Dean walked away from the foosball table with his phone to his ear.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

She laughed, "My piece of crap cell phone won't hold a signal for shit. My old phone would've been fine with international calls."

Dean rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"You know," he said, "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but losing your phone on that roller coaster was not my fault."

"Tell that to my missing phone," she teased. He laughed and changed the subject.

"So, you were saying you're coming home?" he asked.

She said, "Yeah, I should be home in a month or so. They just told us today. It's just a holiday leave, but we definitely need to catch up."

He answered, "Can't wait. I miss you, Cassie."

"Well, I'll let you know when I have a more concrete date," she said, "But I'll be home soon. I miss you, too, Dean."

Before he could say anything else, she said, "Hey. I have to go. It's a lot later here than it is there. It was nice talking to you."

She hung up.

Worry wormed its way into Dean's stomach. He was certainly happy about being able to see Cassie. Even though they didn't talk often, he still considered her one of his best friends. But it had been a while since he'd seen her. He wondered if she was still the bubbly, dark-skinned girl he'd known for so long and had even dated at one point, or if being in the military had changed her in some big way. She'd been in for so long that, even though her absence had started with Dean worrying constantly about Cassie getting hurt or winding up dead, he had gotten to the point that he only missed her when he thought about her, which truthfully wasn't very often.

Lately, he'd though about her more frequently since she'd probably be the only person he'd feel comfortable talking to about his problems with Lisa. Cassie dated him once; she knew how stupid he could be with relationships. She would probably be able to give him some good advice. Even if his and Lisa's problem couldn't be fixed, talking to Cassie would at least make him feel better. But he still had to wait.

Dean put away his phone and went back over to Benny, who had engaged in a rematch with the blue-eyed boy. Maybe 'boy' was the wrong word. He looked to be about Dean's age, anyway. He checked his watch, realized he had a half hour to pick up Ben, and said a quick goodbye to Benny.

Going back to their table, he slowly approached the awkward and uncomfortable stares of Charlie and Sam. Dorothy must've gone to get more food. He took a breath and reached for his backpack on the floor behind Sam's feet.

"Dean," Sam said. Dean didn't have time for this.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," he said, "I'm not moving out, so don't worry. I've got to go pick up Ben. See you guys at home."

Dean arrived at Lisa's at 6:09pm, earning him a baleful glare from Ben's mom.

He ignored her and said, "Hey, kiddo. Ready to go?" Ben bounded up to him and reached for his hand.

"Dean! I have to show you something! I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING!" Ben shouted, hyper as all hell. Dean could see the brewing argument in Lisa's eyes. Her look told him they would be resuming their discussion later.

Swallowing his anxiety over what that would entail, he picked up Ben with one arm and said, "You have to show me something? What is it?"

Dean waved a quick goodbye to Lisa as Ben started babbling about the gold tar he'd gotten on his drawing in class and how his kindergarten teacher said the star meant he was special. He didn't try to hide how proud he was of Ben's gold star as they made their way to Dean's apartment.


	4. Hurt

Sam watched Luci pace on the phone. He nodded enthusiastically as he listened. Sam didn't even know who was on the phone. He leaned his ankle on the arm of Luci's beige couch.

His boyfriend quickly hung up the phone and smacked Sam's foot off the couch with a whack that shot pain all the way up his leg. At first, when Luci had started being overly aggressive and a little too rough, Sam had thought it was one of the many phases that his boyfriend had gone through trying to discover his masculine identity. There had been a whole month where Luci had worn something made of leather at all times. Unlike the leather, the causing Sam pain thing hadn't faded with time. Sam knew better now than to exhibit any signs of pain; it only made his boyfriend keep going and hit harder.

Luci plopped next to Sam on the couch.

"That was Ruby. She and Meg are at a club on Polk and want us to party with them," he said.

Sam grimaced, "Well, you can go if you want, but my ankle hurts too much for standing or dancing at some club."

"I still can't believe you sprained your ankle," Luci laughed, "I didn't push you _that_ hard."

"Still I'd rather not party with them tonight," he repeated. Luci stood up, pouting his lip, and looked at Sam.

"Please?" he asked, whining a little. Sam rolled his eyes.

His boyfriend dropped to his knees before his and held his ankle gingerly in his hands. Luci asked, "What if I made you feel better?" Sam stared at Luci's hands in apprehension and made no move to reply.

Luci grinned and twisted Sam's ankle sharply to the left, making Sam gasp in pain.

"On a scale of one to ten, one being a cut you didn't notice and ten being you fed your arm through a wood chipper, how much pain are you in?" he asked. Sam gripped the edge of the couch tightly as Luci twisted Sam's ankle further.

"Six," he gasped, trying not to cry or shout out in pain.

Luci straightened Sam's ankle and rubbed it gently, nearly eliciting a moan of pleasure from Sam just from having the pain stop. Nearly. The last thing Sam wanted to do was encourage this kind of treatment.

"Only a six?" Luci laughed, "You could easily come dancing."

"I just don't want to," Sam pressed. Luci turned Sam's ankle quickly in the other direction. Sam bit his lip hard and clawed at the fabric of the couch.

"Considering how swollen this is," Luci said, "Your ten must be ridiculously high." He paused and stretched Sam's ankle painfully. Sam finally cried out in strangled anguish.

"Come dancing with me, Sam," Luci said.

Sam gasped, "Let go."

"Then, say yes," Luci countered.

"Let go!" Sam shouted.

Luci turned his ankle more.

"Say yes!" he barked.

"Yes!" Sam yelled.

Again, his boyfriend straightened his ankle and soothed it with gentle rubbing. Sam was so caught off guard by the sudden gentle touch, he almost cried remembering when their touches were all this gentle, this loving, this intimate. He still foolishly hoped things would return to the way they were before the bruises and sprains and pain. Luci helped Sam off the couch and supported his weight as he tried to use his abused ankle to stand.

"I don't expect you to dance with me," Luci said quietly, "I see your ankle is pretty bad. But I'm glad you're coming with." Sam could almost hear a 'thank you' in there. He stood on his own and followed Luci towards the door, careful to not favor either leg.

He smiled at Luci, "I wish I could dance with you."

As they left Luci's apartment, his boyfriend said, "You'd better be careful on the stairs. Remember, there's always a new ten." A chill ran down Sam's spine.

Luci smiled with mock innocence, "Oh, come on, Sam. I'm not going to push you down the stairs again. That last time was a total accident." Slowly, they made their way towards the stairs.

"Plus," Luci added, "I might accidently kill you if I did that. And if you weren't here, I'd probably end it. And that wouldn't be fun for anyone."

"You'd what?" Sam asked. He could feel the horror building in his gut. He couldn't be saying what he thought he was saying.

Luci clarified, "I'd kill myself if I didn't have you here."

He said it like it wasn't even a question. As they stepped out into the cold city air and headed for the club on Polk street, that certainty in Luci's voice frightened Sam the most.

Just after midnight, Dean carried a sleeping Ben like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder as they arrived at Lisa's front door. She opened the door and took her son to his bed, leaving Dean standing just inside the doorway.

When she came back she said, "You're a bit late." He felt her sarcasm slither over his skin. Lisa had gotten home around 11pm, so saying he was 'a bit' late was much too generous to possibly be sincere.

"Yeah, I know. He fell asleep, so getting his jacket on took a while," he said.

"He wouldn't have needed a jacket if you'd been here," she argued. She folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a strong stare, practically daring him to fight back. He didn't want to do this.

"It's Tuesday. You know it's game night at my place," he said defensively.

"If you're needed here," she said coolly, "I would hope we come before game night in your priorities." Seriously?

He shook his head and said, exasperated, "But I wasn't needed here. Ben was fine at my place. I don't see what the problem is." He saw the tired anger in her eyes and braced himself.

"The problem," she said, practically gritting her teeth, "Is that you don't want to be here at all."

"That's not—"

"Why don't you want to move in here, Dean?" she pressed.

"Can we not—"

"I know it's not Ben, because I know you love him."

"Lisa, I just don't—"

"You don't what, Dean?"

"I just don't think we'd survive it if I moved in," he blurted.

He quickly examined his shoes. He hadn't wanted to do this tonight. Honestly, he hadn't wanted to do this ever.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. He shook his head and turned towards the door. He needed space.

But she needed answers.

"We're broken, Lisa," he said, "I don't know when that happened but we're broken. If I moved in here, it would only get worse."

"Dean," she said softly, putting a hand to his face, "It's not broken. We're not broken. Not irreparably anyway. We can fix it. I just think it would be easier to fix if you were here." He stepped away from her touch.

"We would fight even more, and you know it," he countered, "I think we're not strong enough to handle it."

He knew it sounded like he was just giving up. But he tried for so long to make it work for them, for Ben. He knew it wouldn't work out. He knew they didn't work the first time they got together back in high school. He knew they wouldn't work now.

He'd only stayed this long for Ben. He knew how badly Ben wanted him as a father figure. And he loved Ben as if he was his own in return. And that made the present situation that much more terrifying. He could feel the end coming, but the thought of losing his kid, even if he wasn't his, stopped his heart cold.

"We could have a life here, Dean," Lisa said quietly, "And you don't even want to—"

Dean interrupted, "What kind of life would it be if we just fight all the time?"

Lisa quickly opened the door for him in two angry steps.

"You know what?" she said, "Get out." Dean wanted to backtrack as hard as possible.

"Lisa—" he tried.

"No," she cut him off curtly, "If you're not willing to try, get out."

"Lisa, please, that's not what—"

"We're done, Dean. Go."

Dean felt a hot, angry tear fall from his eye. How had they gotten here? There was a time when Lisa told him to go, so they didn't have to tell Ben that his mom had a boyfriend. There was a time when he would've ended a fight like this by pinning Lisa against the wall and stealing her angry words with his tongue.

But now, all he could say was, "At least let me say goodbye to Ben."

"No," she said firmly.

It made Dean think for an insane second that things weren't really over. How could Lisa not let Dean say goodbye to Ben unless it really wasn't goodbye? But he saw the hurt in Lisa's eyes, the hurt that Dean had put there.

"Please, Lisa," he said, "I just want to—"

"He's not your son, Dean!" she shouted.

He felt like he'd been slapped across the face. He was so stunned, he didn't move. She all but shoved him across the threshold and slammed the door in his face. Only for Ben's sake, Dean did not bang on the door in urgency to fix something, anything.

It finally started to sink in that this was really it. He walked down the block and sat on the curb, struggling desperately not to cry. Goddammit.


	5. A Small Amount of Comfort

After the club and dropping Luci off at his apartment, he left with his boyfriend's words ringing in his ears.

"I'd kill myself if I didn't have you here."

After months of hidden bruises and false apologies, those were the last words he expected to hear. Sam walked back to his apartment, but he knew he wouldn't be going home tonight. He knew Luci was bad for him, and he'd been meaning to break things off for a while, but somewhere he hoped to no avail that Luci would go back to being the strong man he loved so much. He used to have so much respect for him, having been kicked out of his house for being who he was. He was so wonderful and strong and amazing. Now, it was hard to reconcile that person with the one who yanked him around with too much force or resorted to begging and guilt trips to get sex from Sam whenever he felt like it. He knew the good times were getting fewer and farther between. But now, Sam genuinely worried that Luci's threats were serious. What reason would he have to lie anyway?

Sam stumbled into the next alley, eyes stinging with angry, unshed tears. He couldn't be responsible for someone's death. He couldn't be responsible for that someone's life either. He was trapped, and he knew it.

"I'd kill myself if I didn't have you here."

Sam slammed his fist into the cold brick wall.

"I'd kill myself."

How had he gotten himself into this mess? He punched the building again.

"Kill myself."

Slam.

"Kill myself."

Slam. His knuckle split with a sharp sting, making Sam hiss in pain.

Dammit. He slid to the ground in the dark alley and wrapped his fist in his shirt. Well, what was one more thing to hide, anyway? After all this, he'd become a bit of an expert at hiding minor injuries. He let his head fall back against the rough brick. Maybe if he cracked his head hard enough against wall, none of this would matter. Angrily, he smashed his uninjured fist into the wall next to him.

"Whoa. Hey, that's quality brick you're roughing up there," said a light voice. A man who was a good foot shorter than Sam sauntered up to him. His feathery hair caught a bit of moonlight in it as he looked down at Sam. From where Sam sat on the hard, Chicago ground, the man seemed to tower over him.

"Just kidding," he said. Sam eyed him warily; this time of night, no one was out on the streets for anything good. The man seemed to sense Sam's apprehension. He crouched to be eye level with Sam.

"What are you doing out here so late, kid?" he asked.

Sam replied, "I could ask you the same thing." The man nodded and plopped down next to Sam on the ground.

"Fair enough," he said. For a few moments, they sat in silence. Sam silently questioning what the hell was going on. Finally, he looked at the other man and didn't regard him as a threat. Honestly, he just seemed exhausted.

Sam broke the silence first.

"I'm trying to avoid going home," he said. The man turned to look at Sam. A light turned on inside one of the buildings, allowing a window to illuminate part of the alley. Sam saw his mysterious companion didn't seem to be much older than he was. The man smoothed down his disheveled hair when he noticed Sam's scrutiny. Quickly, those amber eyes shifted away from Sam to stare at the opposite wall from them.

"Oh, yeah?" he said, responding the Sam's vague answer, "Same for me, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my dad's going at it with my brothers again. Not quite my scene tonight," the smaller man explained.

Sam nodded. He remembered enough screaming fights with John and Dean that he could easily relate.

"How about you?" the stranger asked.

Sam shrugged, trying not to think about Luci and failing, "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Really? You're not going to share your personal drama with a perfect stranger? I see how it is," he said with mock anger. Sam smiled a bit at the other man's attitude.

"Well, your loss," the man said, "Perfect opportunity for a non-biased audience. But you don't want to talk about it. I get it."

"It's my boyfriend," he said hesitantly, testing the waters for just how non-biased this guy really was. He seemed completely unfazed.

Sam continued cautiously, as it was clear his listener was waiting, "We haven't been doing well lately. Haven't for a while actually. I don't think I love him anymore to be honest." He waited for a response but received nothing but a nod to continue.

"He's been really awful, but now I know I can't leave, and it just sucks." His companion cocked his head ever so slightly when Sam said Luci was being awful.

Sam removed his cut up fist from his shirt and pulled up his sleeve to reveal the finger sized bruises wrapping around his wrist and forearm.

"Awful," Sam reiterated. The man reached out gingerly and gently touched Sam's marked up skin.

"I see," he muttered. Sam took back his arm and slid his sleeve back down to his fingertips.

"I'm just not okay enough to go home right now," he concluded. The man nodded and stood.

"I get that," he said stretching.

He brushed off his pants and said, "Kid, it's your life, I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But, as hard as it is, you should probably get home. It's late, and the next guy you run into may not be as nice as me."

Sam slowly got back on his feet.

"You're probably right," he said. Telling this guy about it all had calmed Sam considerably.

As the man started to walk away, Sam asked, "Hey, what's your name?" The guy turned around to face him from just outside the alley. The streetlight swathed him in an urban glow.

"You show me yours, I'll show you mine," he replied with a grin.

"I'm Sam."

"The name's Gabriel," he said. Sam struggled to find his voice again and replied, "Thank you, Gabriel, for listening." Gabriel sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"No need to thank me. Just take care of yourself," he said.

Sam nodded and they went their separate ways. Much to Sam's surprise, he did actually find his way to his own bed that night.


	6. Alcohol in Place of Comfort

Fucking Lisa. He wasn't ready to move in with her. Was that such a big deal? And Ben wasn't his son? He fucking knew that, but that hadn't stopped him from loving the fuck outta that kid. He didn't even get to say goodbye. Fuck everything. It had been a few days, but staying in his room hadn't worked, avoiding class hadn't worked, going to class hadn't worked, and alcohol was next on his list of things not to work. He grabbed his next beer from the Roadhouse bar (he lost count somewhere after his fifth) and wished his tolerance wasn't so high. He wanted so badly to black out and forget all this twisted shit.

"You know, drinking your problems away doesn't actually work, right?" Jo said snidely.

Dean snapped at her, "You know what? Blow me, Jo."

"Like I'd want to."

"Like I'd let you," he countered. Her good humor dropped as if he'd slapped her in the face.

"Fuck you, Winchester," she said, slamming his next beer on the bar and walking away.

"Where and when, sweetie," he called with venom in his words even he could hear. Sure, he knew he'd hurt her feelings, doubly hurt them since he was pretty sure she had a thing for him, but she should've known better than to get personal with him. A guy got up from a table behind him and joined him at the bar.

"I think you owe Jo an apology," the guy said. Dean turned to tell the guy just where he could stick that suggestion when he was stunned into silence by the bright blue stare he found himself fixed with.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, slightly aware of his slurred speech.

The guy replied, "I'm in your history class."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that helps."

"How drunk are you right now?" the boy asked.

"Not drunk enough," he answered, taking another swig of beer.

"You should apologize to Jo," his classmate repeated.

Dean staggered to his feet and whined, "Fine." The guy followed Dean over to where Jo was wiping down a table.

"Fuck off," she said angrily. Dean looked at his classmate who gave him a stern look to continue.

Dean leaned over towards Jo and said, "Hey, I'm sorry. I was being a dick."

She nodded, "Yep. Grade-A asshole."

He sighed and explained, "Lisa and I broke up. I just needed to get wasted." Jo looked up and met Dean's eyes.

"Oh, honey," she said, "I'm sorry."

"It's 'kay. I'm gonna head out. Sorry again, Jo," he muttered.

Jo said quickly, "Castiel, could you please make sure he gets home okay?" The blue-eyed man followed after Dean immediately.

"The hell kind of name is Castiel?" Dean asked, momentarily proud of his attempt at clear, coherent speech. Castiel steered Dean to the door.

Once they were outside, Dean asked, "But seriously? Castiel? Whose idea was that?"

"My parents'," he said.

"I'm gonna call you Cas," Dean slurred, almost laughing at how stupid he sounded, " 's easier."

"Sure, Dean," Cas answered.

After going the complete wrong direction to Dean's apartment, turning around, keeping Dean from stumbling into the street, keep Dean upright, waiting patiently while Dean pissed in an alley, and finally arriving at Dean's apartment, he was pretty sure this Castiel guy was God or at least a saint. How he put up with Dean's drunken rant about Lisa and Ben was beyond him. Sam answered the door when Cas buzzed.

"What the hell? Dean?" Sam asked. Dean smiled widely at how goofy he must look, especially since he was decently sure Cas had an arm around him, supporting his weight.

"I don't know who Lisa is," Cas said, "But apparently she's a bitch and Dean's been drinking because of it for whatever reason. He does live here, yes?"

Sam nodded, taking his brother off of Cas.

"You want to come inside? It's freezing out here," Sam offered.

Cas shrugged a quick, "Sure."

Dean struggled out of Sam's grasp.

"I can walk," he said, defensive. Dean made it two steps before face planting over the threshold.

"Graceful as ever, Dean," Sam commented. Cas snickered as they picked him up off the ground.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, leaning on both Cas and Sam as they made their way slowly up the stairs. Once inside the apartment, Sam and Cas tossed Dean on the couch face down.

Before completely passing out, he heard Sam ask Cas, "He said _what_ to Jo?"

When Dean awoke the next morning, he was still on the couch with a crick in his neck and a nasty hangover. Thank God for Saturdays. He walked to his room sleepily to grab new clothes. As he pulled off his shirt, a figure in his bed turned over. Castiel, a shirtless Castiel no less, was sleeping in his bed. What.

Quickly, he found Sam making scrambled eggs in the kitchen.

"You let Cas stay the night?" Dean asked in a half whisper. Sam nodded while stirring the eggs.

"What did you expect me to do, Dean?" he asked, "The guy brought your drunk ass home, got you to apologize to Jo without being sober, and it was freezing outside. Of course, I let him stay here." Dean sat at the table and started remembering the details of the previous night. Oh, God.

"So, you and Lisa split?" Sam asked. Dean had been scarce lately, but he hadn't found the time or energy to tell anyone about it. Except for Cas and Jo, apparently.

Dean caught Sam's eye and said, "Dude, don't."

Sam nodded politely and returned his attention to the eggs. Cas emerged from Dean's bedroom, now with a shirt on, and sat at the table across from Dean. His hair was all kinds of messed up, which really only accented how bright his eyes were. And damn, if Cas' lips didn't look soft when he yawned.

Dean averted his eyes.

Why was he checking out Cas? First, he barely knew the guy. Second, he was definitely, very confidently, not gay. Third, he _just_ broke up with Lisa. That was probably why he was checking out Cas, actually. Maybe the trauma of losing Lisa and Ben made him stop thinking straight. He just needed some coffee and therapy. It would all start making sense, right?

Sam served Cas some eggs and asked, "Would you like some coffee?" Cas shook his head.

"No," he said, "Thank you for the eggs, though. You really didn't have to."

Sam smiled and fixed himself some eggs and coffee, joining them at the table.

Dean asked, "Hey, don't I get coffee or eggs?"

"It's in the kitchen," Sam said around a bite of scrambled yolk. Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself as he went to get some breakfast. A few minutes later, as he sipped at his piping coffee, he noticed Cas staring at him. Dean shot his eyebrows up at the guy.

"What?" he asked.

"We need to talk, Dean," Cas answered.

Dean sighed, assuming it was to call him out for being such a bitch last night, and said, "Alright, after breakfast."

They ate their meal in silence. Cas still kept furtively staring, which was just really damn creepy, but it did make Dean feel a little less like the garbage he was and a little more like he had something entirely way too interesting on his shirt. And that was when Dean realized that he was, in fact, not wearing a shirt. Well, that might've explained some things.

After breakfast, and now adorned in a Metallica t-shirt, Dean walked Cas out into the apartment hallway. Once the door was closed, Cas turned to Dean and hugged him tightly.

Dean's heart and head both stopped doing anything at the same time. What. The. Fuck. Eventually, his mouth picked up the slack.

"Uhh, Cas?" he tried, his brain still completely misfiring. What was happening?

Cas released him abruptly and said, "You seemed like you needed a hug last night, but it didn't seem like the more important thing when we were getting over here."

"Uh huh," Dean said, trying to forget how Cas smelled. It wasn't going too well. As Dean and Cas got to the building's stairs, Cas turned to Dean and locked eyes with him.

"Dean," he said, "I think we should be friends."

"What?" Dean asked. What was with this guy? He was so weird. Cas focused his entirely too blue eyes on the ground.

"You told me a lot more last night than I think you realize. I know you could use a friend. And it would be nice if we could hang out," Cas explained. Suddenly, Dean felt naked. What had he told him? He thought he remembered most of last night, but now he began to doubt that.

"Yeah, sure," Dean said.

Cas smiled and lit up the stairwell with it.


	7. The Start

Weeks went by with Dean only seeing Cas in class, and they never talked when they did see each other. He had started to figure that Cas had only been trying to make Dean feel better with his offer of friendship even though he was so awkward about it.

Dean and his friends sat at their usual table, relaxing after a long day of midterms. Sam pulled out a book and cracked it open loudly on the table with a sigh. Dean shook his head and snatched the book.

"Nope," he said, "We're done with school today. Don't be bringing it in here with you." Sam reached for the law book, but Dean held it out of reach. He stared at his older brother in exasperation.

"Fine," Sam sighed, "I'll study at home later."

Dean smiled at him in triumph and, handing the book back, said, "Atta boy." As Sam shoved his study material back in his backpack, three guys approached the table. Dean looked up to see bright blue eyes studying his face.

"Hey, Cas," he greeted.

Charlie eyed Castiel, "Hey, aren't you the kid who—"

"Yeah," Dean cut her off, "Cas did me a solid."

He turned to Cas' companions, "And they are…?" Cas introduced his friends as Balthazar, a blonde, scruffy dude whose low cut shirt was way too tight and whose smile seemed to be physically imbued with sarcasm and sass, and Gabriel, a shorter guy with a mischievous grin and a leather jacket. Dean already distrusted the both of them violently. As Cas introduced Gabriel, Sam's head snapped up from whatever he'd been doing with his backpack. He visibly blanched. Dean shook his head at his brother, the weirdo, and returned his attention to Cas.

"You guys wanna sit down?" Dean asked. Charlie and Dorothy scooted towards Sam, allowing the boys to sit. Despite the added room, Cas took a seat next to Dean, occupying the little space between Dean and the edge of the booth. Dean shoved Sam over to give himself a little more personal pace, but it wasn't much of an improvement. They all shyly sipped at their drinks.

As an awkward silence fell over the table, Dean was painfully aware of the spot where his knee touched Cas' and where their thighs lined up together. It was suddenly uncomfortably warm in the booth.

Gabriel broke the silence by saying, "So, how's it's going, Sam?" Sam choked on his root beer and coughed loudly.

"Wait," Dean said, "Sam, you know this guy?"

Sam nodded, staring at Gabriel, "Yeah, from class, right?"

"Yeah," Gabriel affirmed, "We have a class together." Balthazar looked at Gabriel with a questioning gaze, but his shorter friend waved him off. Something was definitely going on. Before he could say anything about it, Sam grabbed his backpack and stood, making Cas and Dean move to let him out.

"I'll see you at home," he called over his shoulder. What the hell was up with that kid? Dean and Cas sat back down, again with their knees touching despite having even more room. Dean awkwardly retracted his arm so it wouldn't be draped around Cas' shoulders. Suddenly, Gabriel left with an abrupt wave goodbye and followed Sam out of the Roadhouse.

"What the fuck?" Dean muttered, watching them leave. He turned back around to the rest of the table, who all seemed to be as confused as he was.

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Balthazar said, "But I'm starving. Bar food anyone?"

"Hey, Sam, wait up!" Gabriel called. Sam turned and stopped, watching the man bounce up to him. As soon as Gabe caught up, Sam continued walking home.

Gabe asked, "Are you okay? You left in a bit of a huff there."

"No," Sam said, "I'm not okay. I told you some seriously personal shit with the understanding that I wouldn't ever see you. Now, Dean knows something's up, and at this rate, he'll probably figure out what's been going on and I can't handle that, Gabe, I really can't."

He took a deep breath. Why was he such an idiot? If he wasn't in this mess, he wouldn't have to be hiding shit from his brother.

"Whoa," Gabriel said, "Dean doesn't know about that?"

"No, he doesn't. And I'd like to keep it that way," Sam snapped.

Gabriel nodded, "Okay. I won't tell anyone. Not my business anyway."

Sam sighed and said, "Thanks."

They walked in silence for a bit.

"But, you know," Gabe said, "Since we're probably going to be seeing more of each other, and I already know what's going on with you, maybe I can help you out."

"Seeing more of each other?" Sam asked. That certainly seemed presumptuous.

"I'm Castiel's best friend, you're Dean's brother, and I don't if you saw the way they were looking at each other, but I have a crazy feeling that we'll be hanging out quite a bit." Sam stepped onto the curb near the front of their apartment building.

He laughed, "Dean's straight, you know." Gabe smiled at Sam as they stopped at the front steps.

"Yeah, I heard about Lisa. Castiel told me," he said.

That made Sam's head spin. Dean told Cas about Lisa? He hadn't even talked to Sam about what happened. All he knew was Dean threatened to break his nose if he mentioned either Lisa or Ben again. Gabe seemed to read Sam's mind as a knowing grin spread across his face. If Dean had opened up to Cas, even while drunk, maybe Gabe was onto something.

"If Dean had feelings for a guy, I think he'd tell me," Sam argued.

The shorter man laughed, "Oh, I'm sure. I don't think he knows how he feels yet. Seriously next time they're together, watch them. You'll see it." Sam leaned against the front door, trying to understand how this was his life. Then, the rest of Gabe's earlier statement slapped him in the face. His was an unfixable predicament, but he was opened to ideas.

"How would you help me out?" Sam asked.

Gabriel answered, "I can be a rather good listener. And I hear talking about it can help." Part of Sam wanted to just walk inside and leave Gabriel out on the street. If he didn't talk about it, there were times he could pretend it wasn't real. But it was. And talking to Gabriel, even not about Luci, sounded nice.

"You wanna come inside?" Sam asked.

Gabe said, "Sure, but I don't put out on the first date." He gave an overly emphatic eyebrow wiggle that had Sam holding open the apartment door, trying to stifle his laughter.

There were several things happening that Dean hadn't expected. He hadn't expected Cas to walk back with him to his apartment. He hadn't expected to laugh as hard with Cas on the way home. He hadn't expected to invite Cas inside so they could keep talking. But he definitely hadn't expected coming home to find Sam and Gabriel asleep on the couch with the DVD menu for V for Vendetta playing on the TV.

Apparently, Cas hadn't expected it either.

He whispered, "I feel like there may be something we missed."

"No shit," Dean answered.

There were not many times in his life where he had no idea what to do, but this was one of them. He was torn exactly in half over whether to give Sam a wet willy to wake him up in the most uncomfortable way or to let Sam continue to spoon Cas' friend. He wondered where Charlie and Dorothy had gotten to that they didn't come home to this weirdness.

He told Cas quietly, "Wait here." Dean crept over to the TV and turned off the movie, the silence of the place now deafening. He continued to Charlie's room. Pushing open the door stealthily, Dean saw Charlie and Dorothy wrapped around each other, fast asleep. How late had he and Cas been out? He checked his watch. While they had stayed at the Roadhouse till last call, the 1:00am staring up at him still took him by surprise. But he had just started getting Cas to talk about his family. So, they'd go to his room to keep talking without waking up the longhaired sleeping beauties.

He poked his head around the corner to where Cas was still waiting, and he motioned for him to follow him. He held open his bedroom door for Cas and closed it quietly behind him.

"So, this is my room," Dean said, idly wondering what Cas thought of his multiple Pink Floyd posters, "Don't let it give you any ideas."

"What kind of ideas would your bedroom be giving me, Dean?" Cas asked. If Cas' face weren't the picture of innocence, Dean would've thought he was messing with him.

"Nevermind," Dean said quickly, "So, you were saying something about your parents?"

Over the course of the night, Dean learned that Cas' dad, Chuck, had a job that made him travel a lot, which made them not nearly as close as Cas would've liked. Cas' mom had died giving birth to his sister, Anna, when Cas was very little. They didn't talk about his mom much at his house. Growing up without a mom was, sadly, something Dean knew all too well. When he said as much to Cas, he started to wonder how late it was that he was tired enough to lose his filter.

At some point, Dean lay down on his memory foam mattress and told Cas about living on the road with his dad, about practically raising Sam, everything. Before the night was over, Cas told Dean all about his childhood, constantly moving from place to place, and Dean told Cas all about Lisa and Cassie and how he was worried that he'd never find the right person if, indeed, such a person existed.

In the morning, having been awakened by the smell of fresh bacon, something else happened that Dean hadn't expected. Never in his wildest dreams had Dean thought he'd wake up in another man's arms. Stranger still, Dean never ever expected to be reluctant to leave such an embrace. It was so comforting and secure to feel him there; he could hardly bring himself to consider getting up despite his rising panic of being in bed with a guy. Cas' arms felt like they were holding him together while ripping his sanity to shreds. As he debated between feigning sleep to stay curled up with Cas or getting up to investigate the scent of bacon and trying to maintain his sanity over the situation, he knew one thing for damn sure. He really needed to talk to Sam about this.


	8. Bacon

Dean slid out carefully from Cas' grasp, deliberately ignoring what felt like Cas' morning wood as he went. If he did right, Cas would never have to know the compromising position they'd slept in. Finally achieving freedom, Dean stood up slowly so as not to wake up his friend. Cas' shaggy black hair fell in his face, completely mussed from sleep. Fighting the urge to brush Cas' hair back, the scent of bacon snapped Dean out of staring at the sleeping man and reminded him of his quest. Bacon.

He emerged from his room, closing the door quietly, to find Gabriel and Sam busily cooking back and eggs and waffles and…was Gabriel seriously chopping up pineapple?

"This," he said, gesturing to the quickly forming breakfast spread, "Is how to wake up in the morning."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Gabriel, however, faced Dean with mock sadness, "What? No 'thank you'?"

Sam said, "That's as close to a 'thank you' as we're going to get."

"Oh," Gabriel said, "Well, you're welcome."

Dean sat at the table and shook his head at them. He'd thank them for the meal when they weren't being sassy shits. Once Charlie, Dorothy, and Cas joined them at the table, Sam and Gabriel started serving food. Dean grabbed some folding chairs for the extra people.

Dorothy commented, "We're going to need a bigger table," once all the food was brought over. As they all started eating, an awkward silence fell over the table. The food was very good, but it wasn't enough to make Dean forget the feel of Cas' arms. And that bothered the hell out of him.

Finally, Charlie said, "Well, I was never good at the quiet game. What's going on?" Dean focused as hard as possible on the crunch of back between his teeth. Why was Cas so comfortable? Why was he looking so innocent as he poured syrup on his waffles? Didn't he know what he was doing to Dean's head?

Dorothy looked at Charlie and said, "Maybe it has something to do with those two cuddling last night?" Dean nearly inhaled a bite of scalding eggs. It wasn't until he looked up and saw Sam push away from the table, abrupt and red faced, did he know she wasn't talking about him and Cas. Sam walked quickly to his room and shut the door.

"We're not talking about it," Gabriel clarified.

Charlie said, "Okaayyy…are we are not talking about Dean and Cas spooning this morning?" Dean wondered if he'd accidentally left his door open or if the concept of privacy was really so foreign in their household.

"Definitely not talking about it," Dean answered, skewering a piece of pineapple with slightly more agitation than was warranted.

Cas sighed, "I see no reason why we can't talk about it. It's not like anything untoward happened."

"Untoward?" Dean asked, questioning his friend's word choice.

"Nothing sexual or physically intimate happened, Dean," Cas clarified.

"Yeah," Dean said, trying to keep the fire from his face, "Definitely not talk about it. At all." Dorothy burst out laughing, and Charlie tried to hold herself together and failed.

Gabriel left to go check on Sam as Charlie choked out, "Oh my god, Cas, if you can make Dean's face turn that color all the time, we are keeping you around. Oh my gosh, that was priceless."

Dean mockingly laughed along and then glared at the girls as Sam and Gabriel returned to the table. He was about to comment on Sam's interesting morning when Cas' knee touched his under the table. The words evaporated on his tongue. And Cas' knee didn't leave.

Gabriel tried to break the silence with a story about Sam smashing an egg all over the counter while they cooked the food. It was followed by laughter and more story sharing that made the rest of breakfast much more of chaotic panic bouncing around Dean's head. Did Cas know his knee was touching Dean's? Had he purposely started cuddling with Dean last night? Why was Dean okay with any of this?

He wasn't gay. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was pretty clear Sam was more gay than not. He hoped the glance Sam was stealing at Gabriel meant that he wouldn't have to see Luci anymore. Still, as Dean shifted his knee away from Cas and missed the comfortable warmth immediately, he knew he wasn't gay. He'd dated Cassie and Lisa, both of who were notable female. And he'd had plent of one night stands over the years, all of which were women. He had never been attracted to a guy ever. Until now. What the hell was going on? Were Cas' hands supposed to look so soft? Was that supposed to be attractive? Fuck everything.

Cas started telling a story, which drew Dean out of his head much too quickly for his own comfort.

"You know," he was saying, "The last time I saw bacon, my dad was doing absolutely everything to get me to try it. I was a vegetarian at the time, and he even tried telling me pigs were meant to be bacon like it was their sole purpose in life." He laughed to himself, earning confused looks from everyone at the table.

He explained, "It's funny, because pigs obviously have more to their lives than being processed breakfast food." Dean noticed Cas had completely avoided the bacon. Learn something new every day.

"Anyway," Cas continued, "I told my dad as much. About pigs having lives. He told me I was crazy, but he never touched bacon again."

"What?" Dean asked, laughing, "He gave up on bacon?" For whatever reason, Cas' story wasn't necessarily funny, but it was sort of endearing.

Cas nodded, a small smile playing on his lips, "He didn't need all that grease and fat anyway. It's probably the unhealthiest food that gets consumed regularly."

"Thank you!" Sam said, happy that someone agreed with his healthy, baconless lifestyle.

"Freak," Dean and Gabriel said in unison. Sam scowled at them.

Cas smiled at Sam and grabbed a piece of bacon. He took a chunk out of it and swallowed, earning him a shocked stare from Sam and a proud one from Dean.

"Guess now's a good time to mention that bacon is the only kind of meat Cas likes," Gabriel said, grinning at Sam.

Sam sputtered, "But you just said you're a vegetarian."

"At the time," Cas corrected.

Dean collected Cas' and his plates and patted Sam on the shoulder on the way to the kitchen sink, "Tough break, Sam. No health freak allies for you today." Dean washed the plates, trying not to think about how hot it was when Cas ate that piece of bacon.

Shortly after breakfast, Gabriel offered to walk Cas home on the way to his place. Cas didn't so much as wave to Dean on his way out, which honestly, made everything a lot more confusing.

But after they left, his life seemed to return to normal. He decided he'd just not have Cas over at his place overnight. Last night was what made this morning so confusing. Everything would go back to normal. As Dean thought about the time he and Lisa had made breakfast for Ben, he wondered how good of a thing normal was.

He sat next to Sam on the couch and deflected his thoughts by saying, "So, you and Gabriel, huh?" Sam shot Dean a glare that could have probably turned him to stone if he tried harder.

"No," Sam said.

Dean laughed as Sam turned on the TV just to shut him up.


	9. Being Stupid

He still couldn't believe he had spooned with Gabriel. He hadn't even intended to fall asleep with him. One minute, they'd decided to wait up for Dean by watching V for Vendetta, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up holding Gabriel like a security blanket. He wasn't even sure if they'd started the movie or not. Luckily, Dean had had an equally embarrassing morning that Sam was all too willing to bring up whenever Dean tried to pry into what happened with Gabe.

And nothing happened with Gabe anyway. They'd just talked about school and some small talk about favorite music and food and anything to stop from having awkward silences. Sam's phone vibrated on the arm of the couch. It was Gabriel.

The text read: "Want to hang later?" So, they may have exchanged phone numbers last night. That didn't mean anything. Friends do that.

He replied, "Sure," and erased the texts quickly. Even though nothing happened, he didn't want to risk Luci finding out and jumping to conclusions. He started to get his shoes on as Dean came out of his room.

"Where you going?" he asked.

Sam slipped his shoes on and said, "You know, I'm not a child. I can go somewhere without telling you where I'm going."

Dean raised his hands in surrender, "Okay. Sorry."

Sam grabbed his jacket when Dean said, "So, Gabriel's then?"

"Shut up," Sam replied, before walking out the door.

When Sam got to Gabriel's place, after asking him for directions at least twice, Gabe opened the door clad only in jeans that really had no business being that tight or that low slung. He had no shirt, and his hair was sopping wet. Had he been texting Sam while in the shower?

Gabe smiled, "Yeah, I clean up nice, don't I?" Sam realized he'd been staring and quickly inspected the sturdy doorframe of Gabriel's place. He lived in a two-flat and led Sam to the lower flat. Gabe disappeared into another room.

He called out, "I'm gonna get dressed. Make yourself at home." Sam looked around. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea. There was a bowl filled with Almond Joy sitting on a table near the front entrance. It's not like he knew Gabriel all that well. He'd opened up the once, but now it didn't seem like enough to warrant hanging out. Sam headed over to Gabe's futon and noted the comforter strewn over it. Was this were Gabriel slept? He smoothed out the comforter and sat down.

This was very weird. He should've just stayed at home. Sam couldn't help but notice a leopard print bathrobe hanging on the back of what seemed like a bathroom door. He just couldn't picture Gabriel wearing it. Though, to be fair, he couldn't have imagined Gabe shirtless and surprisingly muscular until this afternoon either. Gabriel came back out of the room wearing a tight black t-shirt, and his hair looked like he'd just sort of rubbed a towel over his head to stop it from dripping.

"So," he said, "I realized I said we could talk about what's been going on with you and, well, we kinda talked about random stuff that wasn't about that."

Sam wanted to know more about Gabriel, like where his family was today since he lived with them, but he replied, "What do you want to know?" If they were going to get to know each other, he figured he should probably just get it all out there. He could be an open book for a few hours, right?

"What's your boyfriend like? Aside from being an abusive dickwad," Gabe said. How honest could he be about that? Luci was complicated. Open book, he reminded himself.

"Well," Sam said, "His name is Luci with an 'i', and it's complicated."

"Luci?" he asked.

Sam nodded.

"That's a girl's name. Even with an 'i' that's not a guy's name."

Sam nodded again.

"But he's your boyfriend. And a he," Gabe clarified.

"Yep," Sam answered, "Like I said, complicated."

Gabe pressed, "Complicated?"

"Luci is transgender," Sam said, pausing for Gabriel's reaction. There wasn't one.

He continued, "He's biologically female but identifies as male. When he was transitioning, he considered changing his name to something more masculine, but nothing ever took. Sometimes, if he's really trying to pass as a guy, he'll introduce himself as Lucian, but among friends, he's just Luci."

"And he roughs you up?" Gabriel asked.

Sam laughed, "Girls can be just as strong as guys. And Luci is much more guy than girl."

"So, he's an evil dick."

"I guess you could say that."

Gabe asked, "Since I've already seen the bruises, is there anything else I should know about?" Sam nodded. He propped his leg up and slid his pants up to reveal a very swollen and still red ankle. It had been weeks since the original injury, but he hadn't had the chance or the ankle brace to do anything but make it worse. Luci, of course, was no help.

Gabriel jumped up and said, "I'm getting you ice for that. Holy crap." Sam had been waiting to see what would elicit some alarm from him. Now that he knew where Gabriel's breaking point was, he knew he wasn't going to tell him about the other stuff. In comparison to some of the pain, his ankle was barely even noticeable.

When Gabriel came back with a ziplock bag full of ice, he pressed it to Sam's ankle and said, "Jesus, Sam. Why are you still with this guy?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "At first, it was because we'd dated for so long. It's been five years. Just didn't seem right throwing all that time away." He stared at his hands.

Sam continued, "But when I realized he wasn't going to stop, it didn't seem worth it anymore. I've been planning to leave him for the last few months."

"What's stopping you?" Gabe asked.

"I can't leave," Sam confessed, his vision blurring slightly, "He told me he'd kill himself if I ever did." Gabe opened his mouth to say something, but Sam cut him off.

"I know he could just be saying that to get me to stay or to try to show he cares in some stupid, twisted way, but if he's serious, that's just not something I could live with," he said quickly. He felt tears in his eyes that he hoped Gabriel couldn't see.

"Sam," Gabe said, "I'm not going to tell you what to do, like I've said before, but are you sure staying is the better option? He might not kill himself, but what if he kills you, accident or otherwise?" Sam sighed.

If Gabriel had asked him that in the alley, he would've told him straight out how much he didn't care if he died. After all this, he was damaged beyond repair. Waking up took effort. Dying would just be a relief at this point. But Gabe wasn't a random stranger who couldn't give two craps about Sam's stupid life. He was quickly becoming a friend. And while he had already opened the flood gates about Luci, there was no reason why Sam should tell Gabe about the emotional damage.

He answered, "He wouldn't kill me. He's too attached to do something like that." Gabriel gave Sam a concerned look but dropped it. Sam tried to blink naturally to clear his eyes of tears without attracting Gabe's attention to it.

It didn't work. A rebel tear slid down his cheek while the others were kept at bay. Dammit. Gabriel wiped the tear away softly, and his touch set Sam's skin on fire. Not a good sign given Sam's current relationship situation. He didn't have the time to deal with developing a crush on this guy. He was probably straight anyway.

"Sam," Gabe asked, "Are you okay?"

He answered, "I'm so stupid." As if that answered the question.

"What?" Gabe asked, clearly confused.

"I should've never dated Luci. Or at least, I should've left after the first time he hit me. This is all my fault. I thought things would get better. Dammit, why am I so stupid?" Sam blurted.

Gabriel took Sam's hand in his.

"Whoa, hey, Sam. You are not stupid. You're in a bad situation, but this is not your fault. Luci's a prick. If you want to blame someone for all this stuff, blame him," Gabe said.

Sam looked him in the eye. He could see how much this guy cared about him. Sam couldn't remember anyone looking at him like that before. He should probably leave before he hurt Gabe like everything else.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Gabe smiled, "No problem. Now, there's just one more thing."

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Since your boyfriend is such a gigantic douchebag, can I call him Lucifer?" Gabe asked as innocently as possible.

Sam had a difficult time remembering the last time he'd laughed so hard.


	10. In Class with Cas

Dean took a seat in the back of the class and pulled a notebook out of his backpack in case he needed to pretend to take notes. Honestly, if Charlie hadn't walked him to class, he wouldn't have been there at all let alone on time. Other students were still piling in. Then, there was Cas. He walked in behind the crowd and slid into the seat next to Dean.

"Hello, Dean," Cas said, "I was starting to think you dropped this class."

"Would if I could," Dean replied, opening his notebook to a random blank page.

"Do you not like Women's History?" Cas asked.

Dean sighed and reluctantly met Cas' gaze. He could get lost in all that blue. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"No," he replied, "I got nothing against women; I love women. I'm not big on history."

Cas nodded, "So, why are you taking this class?" Cas licked his lips, and Dean struggled not to mimic the motion. Apparently, Cas' effect on him wasn't limited to post-spooning awkwardness. What. The. Fuck.

"I needed a humanities course," he answered. Why was he looking at him like that? It was like those blue eyes could see straight through him.

Cas asked, "For what major?"

"Law enforcement," Dean said.

Cas smirked and pulled a notebook out of his bag.

"What?" Dean asked.

"You look like a cop." Dean didn't quite know how to take that.

Their professor walked in and pulled dry erase markers out of nowhere.

"What are you majoring in?" Dean asked quietly. Cas checked his mechanical pencil for lead. God, his hands.

As the professor starting writing on the board, Cas answered, "History."

Of course he was. Maybe if he could get his shit together and stop thinking about Cas' hands on him, he could ask him for help passing this class. Considering how much effort it took to stop looking at Cas, it seemed like a pretty big if.

Why the fuck was he feeling like this? He was straight, dammit! It must've been something to do with Lisa. He was subconsciously trying to rebound. But he knew he'd gotten over Lisa while they'd still been dating. The pain was still there, but they'd been over with months before they split. Maybe it was losing Ben. But how would losing the closest thing he had to a son make him check out this guy? This guy in his class with the pinkest, softest lips and brightest, blue eyes and this little smile and goddamnit!

Dean decided to focus on the teacher and actually pay attention in this class.

"Family," the teacher was saying, "was largely defined by men."

"Like everything else," someone piped up. Nothing like a Women's History class to make a guy ashamed to be a guy.

The professor said, "Let's try to remember we do have men in this classroom. A little respect and decorum, hmm?" She turned back to the board and drew a generic family tree.

She continued, "In certain societies, family is defined through the female. In ours, family is defined through the male. For example, it was custom in the 19th century, which is the period we're studying now for those of you who've not been paying attention." Dean ducked his head and saw Cas smiling. It was breathtaking. Must pay attention to teacher.

She continued, "for women to take the name of the man they married. She would have no legal agency of her own. She simply became another part of her husband. Children, too, would have the father's name, which became problematic if the father were to die. Any guesses as to why?"

No one said anything. Dean avoided eye contact. Cas touched Dean's leg, which damn near gave him a heart attack. Cas slid his notebook to Dean.

"Anyone?" the professor tried again. She looked like she was losing faith in her class. Dean looked at Cas, and he nodded encouragingly.

"Because the mother would not get custody of her kids," Dean said, trying to sound slightly more confident than he felt. How did Cas know this shit? The professor beamed at him.

"Yes. Thank you," she said, "Women did not have the right to their own children. The kids would instead be legally given to the father's male next of kin. It was not until 1848 that mother's right were recognized by law."

Dean pushed Cas' notebook back to him. He had no idea that women hadn't had the rights to their own children. Hell, they gave birth to them and raised them and loved them. That was so fucked up. While his situation was not nearly as ridiculous, he could relate. Breaking things off with Lisa was for the best. He just wished he didn't have to date Lisa to see Ben.

He tried to keep paying attention to the lecture, but he started wondering about Cas. How did Cas feel about kids? Did he want kids? If he did, that sort of shot any chance that he might want to be with Dean. Would he want to be with Dean? He'd seen Dean drunk off his ass. And that was how they met aside from when he played foosball with Benny that one time. Did Dean want Cas to want to be with him? When Cas stared at him, it made Dean forget there were other people around. And that was sort of nice. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be with Cas.

This was getting ridiculous. The teacher started talking about family dynamics in cases of divorce. All it did was make him think of Lisa. But not paying attention meant thinking about Cas. Cas' foot brushed Dean's leg. His heart sped up instantly.

This was a new kind of hell.


	11. Battle Scars

He kissed Luci goodbye as he got in his car.

"Have fun in Detroit," Sam said. Luci rolled his eyes. Once he drove off, Sam called Gabe to meet at the Roadhouse.

"A week?" he asked. Sam nodded, not even trying to fight the smile stretching across his face.

A whole week without Luci seemed almost too good to be true. He'd been called to Detroit for a week, because his parents wanted to have an early Thanksgiving since Luci wasn't able to make it up later in November. And since his parents were pretty strict in their hatred of cell phones and not on very good terms with Luci to begin with, he didn't even have to call while he was away. It was a taste of freedom that had Sam both excited and terribly nervous. What if he got used to it?

Gabriel smiled with an impish twinkle in his eye.

"I know exactly what we're gonna do with this vacation," he said. Sam raised his eyebrows at him.

Gabe elaborated, "Every day after school, you're gonna come over to my place, we're gonna hang out, and you're gonna have the best week of your life. Starting today." Sam tried desperately to not imagine what they could be doing during this wonderful week. He definitely did not think about a shirtless Gabriel greeting him every day after school. He didn't consider ditching school altogether. Not even once.

Dean squeezed into the booth, shoving Sam closer to Gabriel than he'd already been. Their shoulders brushed, sending electricity down Sam's side. This week was going to be insane.

Cas slid in next to Dean when Dean asked, "What about the best week of your life?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Can I not have a private conversation for once—"

Gabe answered, "I'm gonna spend a week showing your brother a good time." Sam could feel the heat in his face as Dean burst out laughing.

Then, he noticed something. Something was forced in Dean's laugh. Sam looked up and met Dean's eyes. The joy on his face was missing from his eyes. His eyes were wider than normal. He seemed nervous.

Dean caught Sam's scrutiny and snapped, "What?"

Sam shrugged, "Nothing."

But then he saw how Cas was looking at Dean. Son of a bitch. Gabe was right. One way to know for sure, though.

"Yeah, Gabe and I were making plans for the week," Sam said, "Since we'll be out of your hair, maybe you two can go do something together."

Dean looked like he'd swallowed acid and shot Sam a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. And Sam knew Gabriel was completely right about them. Holy crap.

Cas beamed at the suggestion.

"That could be fun," he said to Dean. Dean stopped glaring at Sam long enough to turn to Cas.

"What would you want to do?" he asked.

Cas looked at the table, "I don't know." Dean smiled at Cas and Sam had to stifle a giggle. Oh, he _had_ to talk to his brother about this. But as Gabriel lightly touched his arm, he knew it could wait.

"We're going to Gabe's," Sam said, getting up, "Don't wait up."

Dean shot Sam a death glare that made him worry about finding Nair in his shampoo later. He made a mental note to test his shampoo before using it again. Dean quickly resumed discussing plans with Cas as Sam and Gabriel left the Roadhouse.

When they reached Gabe's place, Sam asked, "So, what do you want to do?" Gabriel held the door open for Sam, grabbed an Almond Joy from the bowl, and plopped on his futon.

He grinned and said, "First, I want you to get naked."

"What?!" Sam asked, his voice an octave higher than he would've liked.

Gabe laughed, "I'm just kidding, Sam. It's too easy to make you blush. I couldn't resist." He patted the couch as Sam tried to slow his heart rate.

"But seriously though," Gabe said, "I don't want to start this week of awesome if you're neglecting injuries I don't know about."

Sam's breath caught. His ankle was a bit better, but it still hurt to walk on it. He had a running mental catalogue of all the bruises: two large ones on his torso and side, a large bruise on his back, several smaller marks on his legs, and fresh bruises on his arms. And there were other things.

"Are you asking me to show you all of it?" Sam asked.

Gabe nodded, "You weren't doing jack for your ankle. I gotta know there's not anything else like that."

He must've seen the fear in Sam's eyes, because Gabe said, "Sam, it's okay. I just gotta know you're alright. I'm gonna go get something. At least take your jacket off, hmm?" Sam nodded and shrugged off his coat as Gabe got up, rummaging through his backpack.

It wasn't like he hadn't show Gabriel bruises before. But as he gingerly removed his shirt, he was nervous as all hell. Gabe was going to be disgusted by him, or worse, he'd pity him. Even aside from those worries, sitting on Gabriel's couch shirtless was a new kind of nerve wracking.

Gabe turned around, a small package in hand, and crossed over to the futon. He swept his caramel hair out of his face and whistled. He tossed the package into Sam's hands and gently touched one of the larger bruises that mottled Sam's skin. His fingers were deliciously warm.

"Hot damn, Sam," Gabe said, "Are you sure Lucifer didn't break a few bones? I'm seeing at least three shades of purple here."

Sam nodded, thought he wasn't entirely sure. He'd always figured a broken bone would hurt worse than anything he had going on, but he'd never bothered to check. Gabe stopped staring at Sam's chest and cleared his throat.

"So, that's for you," Gabe said, indicating the small box Sam was holding. Sam opened it, instantly curious. It was a folded up ankle brace.

"Umm, what—" Sam started.

"I'm choosing to believe you just don't have an ankle brace, and that's why you let it get so bad," Gabe explained.

He took the brace from Sam and lifted Sam's ankle onto his lap. Sam watched as Gabriel carefully wrapped the brace around his ankle. His hands were inhumanly warm. And surprisingly soft. Gabe lifted his amber eyes to Sam's.

"Can't start having an awesome week with you all crippled," Gabe said, trying to be lighthearted.

Sam was completely caught off guard by the look in Gabriel's eyes. There was no pity or disgust or judgment. His warm, amber eyes were just filled with kindness and concern for Sam. He didn't know how to respond to a look like that.

"You really don't have to do this," Sam said. Gabe smiled and put Sam's leg back down.

"Yes, I really do," he said.

"Are you going to tell me the stories behind these bruises or what?" Gabe asked, scooting closer for better inspection.

"It's mostly kicking," he said as Gabriel studied him.

Gabe's eyes widened, "Kicking?"

"Yeah, if he's really upset, he kicks."

"What the fuck," Gabe breathed, "Don't you ever fight back?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I would never hurt someone I love," he said.

"But you don't love him."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that. This is what happens when he thinks we are a happy, functional couple," Sam said, gesturing to the bruises, "If I fought back, he'd know the truth. I don't want to know what he'd do."

"Fair enough," Gabe said, "Wait…is that a bite mark?"

He was staring at Sam's shoulder. That one was pretty new. They'd been having sex, and Luci decided to try biting. He hadn't been expecting his boyfriend to break the skin like that, but thankfully, Luci didn't like how long the clean up took, so biting was no longer an option.

"Yeah," Sam answered, "You don't want to know."

Gabe said, "I bet I don't. Jesus. You've cleaned this, right?" Before Sam could answer, Gabriel retrieved rubbing alcohol, band-aids, and Neosporin from his bathroom. Gabe put some alcohol on the bite wound, and it stung like no other. Sam clenched his fist. At Gabriel's touch, the stinging lessened only to be replaced by fire and ecstasy. Sam really needed him to stop touching him.

"How are you not screaming right now?" Gabe asked as he moved onto the Neosporin.

Sam replied evenly, "I've made it a habit not to react to pain." Gabe covered the bite with two large band-aids, his hands leaving tingles as they smoothed the bandages. He turned Sam to face him. Heat spread through Sam's shoulders from Gabriel's hands.

"Dude," Gabe said, "What. The fuck." It took Sam a moment to realize he was talking about his lack of visible pain.

"Showing pain makes Luci make it worse," Sam said, looking at his lap. He knew how pathetic that sounded. Gabriel tilted Sam's head up, which sent Sam's heart racing, and made sure to lock eyes with him.

"If you hurt, you show it. I don't care how much you're used to dealing with. No holding out on me, okay?" Gabriel said. Sam tried to remember to breathe. He was so close to his face. He could so easily kiss Gabe. It would be effortless.

Sam pulled away quickly and said, "Okay." Gabe seemed satisfied.

He asked, "Any other war wounds?"

Sam nodded and motioned to his legs, "Just more bruising." He fought the urge to take off his pants just to see how Gabriel would react.

"I'm keeping these on," he said.

Gabriel smiled. "Okay," he said, sounding dejected.

Sam grinned and wished Gabe's disappointment was genuine.

"Anything else?" Gabe asked. Sam took Gabriel's hand and placed it gingerly on the right side of his head.

"That bump," Sam explained, "Was from a bookcase."

Gabe asked, worried, "You want ice for that?"

Sam shook his head, moving Gabriel's hand, "It's fine."

"I'm getting you ibuprofen," he said, returning to his bathroom. Sam just wanted Gabe's fingers in his hair again. If only all these touches were under different circumstances.

After Sam downed a couple pills, Gabe asked, "Is that it?" Even though he'd told Gabe he wouldn't hold out on him, he could not bring himself to tell him about the worst source of his pain.

"Yeah, that's it," Sam replied.

Gabriel smiled broadly, "So, now. Fun. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Sam said, pulling his shirt back on, "You have any ideas?"

"Oh, no. You're choosing," Gabe said, "This week is all about you."

After a moment, Sam suggested, "We could watch a movie."

He knew exactly what he wanted to do as he watched Gabriel's lips curl into a brilliant smile. He counted his blessings that, after all of this, he didn't have a boner.

"What kind of movies do you like?" Gabriel asked.

Sam said, "Well, I like Star Wars."

"Of course you do. Bet you like Lord of the Rings, too."

"Actually," Sam said, bracing himself for the usual reaction, "I haven't seen it."

"What? How? But—" Gabe sputtered.

Sam laughed a little. He'd been on the road with his dad and brother when the movies had first come out. They didn't have the money or time for watching movies back then.

Gabriel stood up and declared, "We are watching all three, back to back, right now." Sam stopped him.

"Are we gonna have time for that? It's almost 7 o'clock," he said.

Gabe sighed, "It's Saturday, Sam. It's not like we have a time limit. Look, I'll make popcorn, we'll watch the movies, it'll be great." He walked off to grab the Fellowship of the Ring first.

"So, where's your family?" Sam asked when Gabe came back, "I thought you said you lived with them."

Gabe nodded and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave, "They live upstairs, Dad, Mike, and Raphy. This floor is all mine, though. Why, are you worried about interruptions?" He winked at Sam as he started the microwave.

Sam said, "No, more worried about people wondering why I'm in their house."

"I've had sleepovers before, Sam," Gabe said.

"Is this a sleepover?" Sam asked, confused.

The last time they'd had an impromptu sleepover, it hadn't ended very well. Or it had. Sam wasn't sure whether to categorize spooning as bad, because he wasn't spooning Luci, or good, because with Gabe it was a very, very good way to wake up.

"It can be if you're a light weight and pass out during the movies," Gabe replied.

As the night progressed, the popcorn was delicious, Gabe only called Sam "Samwise" a total of four times, he paused the movies multiple times to spout off trivia, he touched Sam way more than was necessary, Sam didn't mind the touching at all, and Gabe passed out on Sam's shoulder only a half hour into Return of the King.

Sam pulled the comforter over his sleeping friend after transferring him from his shoulder to his lap. He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't wake up cuddling Gabriel again.

But as he awoke in the morning to the Lord of the Rings title screen, Gabriel was spooning him, and he would've been lying if he said he was upset about it.


	12. Early Morning with the Moose

Over the next week, Dean barely saw Sam. He was always doing something with Gabriel. He'd either crawl in during the early morning or he wouldn't come home at all with a quick text to Dean telling him the change of plans. It would've been cute if it wasn't so annoying. He still wanted to talk to Sam about the shit happening with Cas. He was definitely more Team Gabriel than Team Luci, but he missed his brother.

And he needed to talk to Sam. He had taken Cas to Millennium Park like they'd eventually decided. It had started okay. Cas was really fun to hang out with. But it started snowing since it was early November in Chicago. Millennium Park in the snow made things _way_ too romantic. It was the most date-like thing that was definitely not a date he'd ever done. And it was awesome. And if that wasn't the most frustrating thing. So, he needed to talk to Sam, but his brother was too busy with Gabriel to even answer his damn texts.

Finally, at three in the Friday morning, Sam got home. Dean hadn't been able to sleep since he kept having perfectly normal dreams that would eventually revolve around Cas in uncomfortable ways.

When Sam walked in, Dean was in the kitchen sipping coffee.

"Hey, Sam," he said, smiling as his brother jumped out of his skin.

"What the hell are you still doing up?" Sam asked.

"Can we talk?" Dean asked instead.

Sam sighed, "Can it wait? I'm kind of tired."

Dean swallowed his coffee and his pride.

"I think I've got a thing for Cas," he said quickly.

Sam joined Dean in the kitchen immediately, tossing his coat on the floor.

"We can talk," Sam said.

Dean didn't think he could bring himself to say anymore. Sam waited. He'd kind of already said it. What else was there to say? He thought he had a thing for Cas. This was the part where Sam should give advice or something. Dean went to clean his mug in the sink.

"Are you gonna talk or should we start playing twenty questions?" Sam asked with a grin. Dean shot him a look. It was hard enough admitting these things out loud without Sam's stupid sass.

"So, Cas," Sam said.

Dean sighed, "Yep."

"So, you like him. What's the problem?" Sam asked.

"What's the problem?" Dean asked, incredulous, "I just split with Lisa like a month and a half ago; if I do like him, it's because he could be a rebound; oh, and I'm straight." Sam sat at the table and motioned for Dean to take a seat. Maybe talking to Sam about this had been a bad idea. This felt like he was being set up for interrogation. He sat down anyway.

"Do you still have feelings for Lisa?" Sam asked. Dean paused. Sam didn't need to know how bad it he'd let that relationship get. But he had wanted to talk.

"No, I don't. It was bad for a while," he answered.

Sam smiled, "So that first thing really isn't a problem then."

Dean sighed, "Fine." Sam folded his hands together and sat up straighter.

"As for your sexuality…" he said.

Dean groaned, "Oh, no. We're not doing this. I'm not gay."

"Have you ever been attracted to another guy?" Sam pressed.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked, exasperated, "No, I've never been into another guy."

"Until now."

Dean sighed and ran his hand over his mouth and chin, "Yeah, I guess."

Sam fixed him with a skeptical look, "You guess?"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Sammy? I don't know what's wrong with me."

Sam shook his head, "Nothing's wrong with you. I think you're probably straight."

"But what about Cas?"

"Cas might just be an exception," Sam concluded, "Maybe you're Cas-sexual."

"Sam, what the hell?"

"What? It's the best guess I've got. You clearly like him, but it's just him. It fits. You come up with a better idea."

Dean stared at him. How was this his brother? Cas-sexual? Really?

"Now, what makes you think he'd be a rebound?" Sam asked. Honestly, it'd been because of how recently he'd left Lisa. But, while he did miss her, that wasn't what hurt. He missed Ben. He missed feeling like part of a family. Sure, he had Sam and Charlie and Dorothy, but it wasn't quite the same. He missed being in love.

"Cas would just be replacing Lisa and Ben," he said. He didn't admit how that would make Cas his new family. When had he gotten so close to Cas? They talked a lot, about everything, but he barely knew the guy.

"Oh, really," Sam said, disbelieving, "Describe Cas for me."

"You know him, why do you want me to—"

"Humor me."

"Cas," Dean said, vaguely aware of how good it felt to say his name, "He's, I dunno. He's about my height, a little shorter. He's got black hair, blue eyes, medium build. What do you want me to say about him?"

Sam said, "Tell me what he's like as a person."

"Umm…he's…" Dean thought about it. What was he like? He was amazing.

He said, "He's smart. He's really smart. I don't know how he knows half the stuff he does. And he's nice. Not like nice in a polite way but in a he-really-cares sorta way. I don't know. He's great."

Sam was grinning from ear to ear, the bastard.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Do you feel how much you're smiling right now?" Sam asked. Dean was fully aware of a grin he couldn't keep off his face. Dammit.

Sam said, "Oh, yeah. Cas is totally a rebound. No way you could really have feelings for him."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Then, Sam said, "It's too bad he's into you…since you can't like him and all."

"What?" Dean asked, a little too loud.

Sam burst out laughing.

"Dude, you've got it bad," he said between giggles. Did Cas actually like him? Was Sam just messing with him? Sam must've just been messing with him. There was no way Dean could be that lucky.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said, "How's Gabriel, by the way?"

That shut him up.

"He's good," Sam said cautiously.

"Just good? What've you guys been doing, anyway?" Dean asked. Sam blushed hard and looked at the table.

"We've been hanging out," he said.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, Dean, that's it."

"But you want to do more than just hang out."

"Shut up," Sam said, fighting a grin. He couldn't hide his smile from Dean, though.

Dean tried not to think of the shy smile Cas had as they shared hot chocolate in Millennium Park. No dice. That smile was the cutest damn thing Dean could think of.

Sam laughed at Dean, "Dude, what's with the look?"

"What look?"

"That look."

"This is my face, Sam."

"You were thinking about something."

"So?"

"Thinking about what?"

Dean sighed, realizing that Sam wasn't going to stop, "About when Cas and I went to Millennium Park a few days ago, which was all your fault, bitch."

Sam's jaw dropped.

"Did you—was it a date?" he asked. Dean stopped him dead.

"No, it wasn't a date. We were just hanging out." He gave Sam a look which was only returned by a classic Sam Winchester bitch face. They both laughed.

"Could you imagine if Dad could see us right now?" Dean asked.

Sam laughed, "I'd rather not. You remember how nuts he got over Brady?"

"Well, you'd always brought girls over before that. It was a bit of a shock," Dean said.

"Okay, fine," Sam said, "Then, he'd be yelling at us to get up and go get them if that's what we wanted instead of sitting here like girls trying to figure out our own feelings."

"Oh, so, we're both feeling like girls here?" Dean laughed.

Sam sighed, "Shut up, Dean."

"What? You got me talking about Cas, but I don't get to hear about Gabriel? How is that fair?" Dean asked, mock-offended.

Sam laughed, "Life's not fair, anyone who says differently is selling something." Dean was so very done with Sam's sass.

"Don't quote the Princess Bride at me," he said, tone becoming slightly more serious, "Just—Do you like him?"

"I'm dating Luci, Dean," Sam protested.

Dean nodded and leaned back in the chair, "I know, I know. It's your life. But if Gabriel makes you happy and Luci doesn't and you ditched Luci for Gabriel, I wouldn't be heartbroken. That's all I'm saying." Sam nodded slowly, the smile gone from his face. Dean knew there was a lot Sam wasn't saying.

"Okay, I get you don't want to talk about it, but I'll try to listen if you ever do," Dean said.

Sam met Dean's eyes and said, "Try? Really, Dean?"

"Well," Dean said with a smirk, "I can't promise anything if you start getting all mushy on me." Sam shoved Dean in the arm with a smile and stood up.

"I'm going to bed. Gabe and I were walking around a lot today, so I'm beat," Sam said.

"Is that what the kids are calling it?" Dean asked.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam replied.

Before Sam left for his room, he said, "Dean, you should really ask out Cas."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said.

Sam said quickly, "Your life. But seriously. Do it."

"Goodnight, Sam."

"You could really be happy with him."

"Okay, Sam. Go to bed."

"Seriously, Dean."

Dean got up and walked to his room.

He said, "Goodnight" and closed his door.

Surprisingly, Dean went to sleep rather quickly despite the coffee. His tolerance of caffeine was getting too high as well. Within seconds of closing his eyes, he could feel Cas' arms around him and dreamt of those lips pressing prayers into his skin.


	13. Life Sucks

Two days after his talk with Dean, Sam tried to forget the week he'd had with Gabriel. Luci was coming back. He needed to forget all that fun and return to his old life. He'd known that taste of freedom was dangerous.

Sunday night, Sam sat with his arm draped over Luci's shoulders while they watched an episode of Stargate-SG1. Even though it was the first time Daniel died in the series, Luci seemed particularly bored.

"So, what did you do last week?" he asked.

Sam said, "Just hung out with Dean at home."

Sam went back to watching the show in silence. As everyone on the show needlessly saluted at Daniel's first funeral, Luci slotted a hand between Sam's thighs. Sam tried to ignore him and focus harder on the TV.

"C'mon, Sam," his boyfriend whined, "You don't pay attention to me anymore. Talk to me, Sam."

"Is talking what you're really after?" Sam asked, gesturing to Luci's hand on his crotch. His boyfriend smiled impishly. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Can't it wait until later?" he asked, waving his hand at the TV as they revealed Daniel was indeed not dead but being held captive by an alien, "It's getting to the good part."

"But, Sam…you're not going to be in the mood later," Luci complained.

"I'm not in the mood now."

"I can fix that."

"Then, you can fix it after this episode." Luci moved on the couch to straddle Sam's hips, effectively blocking the television.

He fixed Sam with an alarmingly cold stare and said, "You know, if you really cared about me, this wouldn't even be an issue."

Sam knew it would only get worse from here. Sure, he'd seen this episode before, so he wouldn't be missing anything. But he really didn't want to have sex with Luci. Still, Sam knew if he didn't relent now, Luci would start moping. That moping would only be curable with sex. If he just left Luci to his sulking—well, Sam still had an ache in his back from the last time he'd tried that.

"You're right," Sam said, "I've seen this episode anyway."

Luci hopped off of his lap happily and said, "Wonderful. Bedroom, then?" Sam's boyfriend dragged him off the couch and down the narrow hall much rougher than was necessary. He knew he was in for it just for being reluctant about having sex. Especially after Luci had been gone for a week. He swallowed his fear and prayed he hadn't angered Luci too much.

This is what he was afraid to tell Gabe about. Sex with Luci wasn't fun, it wasn't nice. It was painful. It usually left Sam bleeding. There were times where he couldn't sit for days. It was one thing to be bruised and beaten, it was another to admit complacency about what was usually coerced sex. It was a level of shame that he would never be comfortable with. Nothing made him hate himself more. But going with it was easier. Not saying anything was safer.

He shoved Sam onto the bed and proceeded to search for his strap-on. Sam knew better than to protest. Sam knew better than to ask why Luci didn't just get gender reassignment surgery. He knew there would be little to no prepping, and no lube. He knew he wouldn't be able to sit for days. He knew he was a coward for not breaking things off with the man who got such pleasure from hurting him. And that was why he knew he deserved this. He took off his pants and thought about walking around the city with Gabriel, watching Lord of the Rings with Gabriel, trying to convince Gabriel to go skating. He tried to think about anything else.

If he was a better person, he'd leave. But he wasn't, so he didn't and wouldn't deserve any better if he did. Still, as Sam choked down his cries of pain, he couldn't help but imagine soft hands, caramel hair, and amber eyes calming him and soothing him through it all.


	14. I'm Sorry

Dean walked with Cas after class towards Dean's apartment.

"How have you not watched Doctor Who?" Dean asked, shocked to no end. This was completely inexcusable. Cas, his lovely best friend, had not seen a dalek or a sonic screwdriver or Gallifrey. Unacceptable. Cas only shrugged in response.

Dean said, "We're watching it when we get home."

He froze.

"My place," he corrected, "When we get to my place."

Cas smiled at him, his heart stopped, and his phone rang.

"Sorry," Dean said to Cas as he answered his phone.

"Hello?" he said into his phone.

"Dean," Lisa said, "Thank god. I didn't think you'd answer." Cas glanced at Dean as he felt the blood drain from his face. Lisa. Oh, God.

"Lisa," he replied, half to answer Cas' questioning gaze and half to say something to Lisa without actually saying anything. Cas nodded, his smile faltering slightly.

"I'll meet you at your place," he said.

Dean mouthed "Thank you" as Lisa said, "Listen, Dean. We need to talk."

Dean watched Cas walk away and asked, "About what?"

"Us."

Dean's stomach dropped. He ran his hand through his hair and turned around on the sidewalk.

"Lis—" he said.

She interrupted, "You should come over. We should really talk in person." He started walking away from his apartment. He could see Ben. He walked faster.

"No," he said.

She sighed, "Dean." He couldn't handle seeing Ben. He didn't want to know what Lisa told him about why Dean wasn't around. He just wanted to let go.

"No," he said, "Just tell me what you have to say."

"Dean, it would be better in person—"

"Tell me. It's hard enough talking to you without drawing it out," he said. He couldn't go to Lisa's. He wouldn't be able to handle it, and he knew it.

"Fine. I want to get back together."

Dean walked faster, tempted to break into an all-out run. His head spun. He couldn't do that. He'd have his family back. It wasn't worth it. He had a family, didn't he? He'd see Ben. No, he'd hurt Ben. He and Lisa would fall apart.

At his silence, she said, "It was good to take a break, but we can work through this." No, they couldn't. It'd be something else, something completely different, but something would break them. No matter what they did, the end would come again and again.

"No," Dean said.

"But, Dean," she said, pleading, "We're family."

Dean shut his eyes and stopped. He leaned against the nearest building. Normally, that would've gotten him to say yes. But nothing was normal anymore. And his family was at his apartment waiting to watch Doctor Who with him whether he knew he was family or not. Whether Dean thought of him as more than a friend or not.

"I said no, Lisa," he said, proud of the strength in his voice. If his heart was taking, his words would have waivered much more.

He snapped his phone shut and resisted throwing it against the sidewalk. As he got back to walking, he realized just how raw he felt. He was a walking nerve ending. Much too raw to see Cas yet. He still wasn't sure about telling him how he felt. The possibility of rejection scared him more than his feelings at this point. Still, it stopped him from coming clean.

He texted Cas quickly, "Everything's fine. I need to relax for a bit. Be there in an hour. Sorry." He felt bad, but he figured it was better than leaving him hanging. Hopefully, Sam would play host for a bit. And Charlie liked Cas enough. God, he needed a drink. Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the Roadhouse.

Three drinks in, Benny sat down with Dean at his unusually empty booth.

"How's it goin, brother?" he asked. His voice was filled with southern nonchalance, but Dean wasn't quite drunk enough to miss the note of concern.

"It's going," Dean replied, taking a large gulp of beer.

"Surprised to see you on your own," Benny said, "Trouble at home?"

Dean shook his head, "They don't know I'm here."

"Ah, well, that'd explain it," Benny replied. He nodded to Jo behind the bar. She scooted around Bobby and Ellen, where they were wiping mugs, and grabbed the phone off the wall.

"The hell, Benny?" Dean asked.

His friend sat back and said, "Only time you come in here by yourself drinking is if you're hurting bad. Your family don't know you're here? Something's wrong, and brother, I ain't watching you do this to yourself."

Dean grumbled and sipped his drink. He ordered a round of shots while he waited for Sam to drag him home. Benny sat with him in silence. It was a comfortable quiet. He could tell Benny was willing to listen if Dean wanted to talk.

He wanted to tell Benny about Lisa calling, about missing Ben, about liking Cas, about how things with Lisa slowly died, about how he didn't think he could hold a stable relationship with anyone, and even about how much he missed his dad. But he didn't. Honestly, no one needed to know this stuff. This was his shit, he'd deal with it.

It came as a serious shock to a slightly tipsy Dean when Cas, not Sam, was directed to him by Jo. Benny got up, squeezed Dean's shoulder, and went to talk with Ellen and Jo, giving Cas and Dean some space. Maybe he knew that Dean would talk to Cas. Maybe he knew Dean had feelings for Cas. Either way, he desperately wanted Benny to stay. He didn't want to have this conversation. Cas' electric blue eyes were already on Dean in a too intense way.

"What's going on, Dean?" Cas asked. There was edge to Cas' voice that Dean couldn't place. But it was hard and dangerous.

"Lisa called," Dean explained.

"I know. I was there."

"It sucked."

"So you get drunk," Cas said, "And ditch me. Makes perfect sense." Dean put his drink on the table and sighed in frustration. He didn't need this. He felt bad enough.

"You don't get it, Cas," Dean said. Cas moved around the table to sit next to Dean.

He said, "Explain it to me." His blue eyes were on fire. Like lightning filled his irises. Dean swallowed. They were sitting very close. He tried to function.

"She wanted to get back together," Dean said, "But I can't." Cas seemed to visibly soften. That was just unfair. Dean was on the verge of sitting on his hands just so he wouldn't reach out and touch him.

"Why?" Cas asked.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you take her back?" he asked.

Cas really needed to stop staring at him like that. He tried to focus on Jo, Ellen, Bobby, and Benny over at the bar.

"I don't love her anymore," Dean said, "I've told you that."

Cas nodded, "Yes, but I know how much you miss Ben." Dean reached for his drink, but Cas stopped him. He placed his hand over Dean's and held the bottle to the table.

"Don't drink," Cas said, "Talk to me."

He was struggling too much with breathing to worry about talking. Cas kept his hand over Dean's.

Dean replied finally, "Yeah, I miss Ben, but Lisa and I don't work. It'd just hurt him."

"How do you know?" Cas asked. Was Cas telling him to get back together with Lisa? That's definitely how Dean was hearing it.

"Can I have this?" Dean asked, moving his hand beneath Cas' to indicate the beer.

Cas said, "No. Talking, not drinking." Dean tried to give Cas a frustrated expression, but it was half-hearted at best.

"I hurt everything," Dean answered, "Ben is no exception." Cas' hand was warm and rough and was giving Dean's dreams even more ammunition. He wanted those hands on him.

"No, you don't. You haven't hurt me," Cas said evenly.

"Yet," Dean added.

Cas took Dean's hand from the beer bottle and wrapped it in his. Why was he doing this? Cas held Dean's hand in both of his and met his eyes with such sincerity that Dean almost looked away.

"I don't think you'll hurt me, Dean," Cas said softly. He couldn't do this. They were so close. Their legs were almost touching.

"Cas," Dean said, trying to keep some composure. He knew it. He couldn't do it. He reached his free hand up to Cas' face. He brushed a thumb over his cheek as he cradled his friend's face.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. He leaned in a caught Cas in a full deep kiss.

Dean was sorry. He was sorry for being a shitty friend. He was sorry he had feelings for Cas. It meant he was going to hurt him, and he was sorry for that, too. He was sorry for being a part of Cas' life at all. He pulled his hand free of Cas', which had gone slack presumably from shock, and ran his hand through Cas' hair. He was sorry he wasn't the person Castiel deserved.

Cas broke the kiss first. Dean's hazy mind screamed at him. What the fuck did he just do? It had to have been something awesome since his lips were still tingling deliciously. Did he really just—

Reality came crashing in. He kissed Cas. Oh God. Cas stared at him, eyes full of shock and confusion. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Dean," Cas said. The depth of his voice was too much. He kissed Cas. He hadn't even told him how he felt. And he just went and…holy shit.

"I'm sorry," Dean said again, quickly. He kissed Cas, and he'd ruined everything. Like always. Shit. He got up from the table and all but ran out the door.


	15. It's Okay

Sam walked slowly and carefully down the dark Chicago street. Every step was a new definition of pain and shame. But he couldn't stay at Luci's. He'd barely kept from crying before he had the chance to leave. God, he hated himself. He hated this. Walking home was the worst when he felt like every second would rip him apart. He knew there were new bruises from Luci's hands on his back. It would be better if he could go down an alley and disappear entirely. Why did this happen? He remembered a time too long ago when Luci wanted to make Sam happy. He'd tried to make sex feel good. Now, it was all a power play and that power play made Sam fight wincing with each stride. His backside was on fire, his legs were wobbly with muscles protesting such abuse, and he was exhausted to the point of collapsing in the street. But he needed to get home. He needed to try to sleep and forget everything. So, he slowly kepy walking just like he always did every time this happened.

"Sam?" came a voice. The sound of his name ran down his spine like honey, and fear clenched his chest. Gabriel could not see him like this. He could barely walk, he'd been crying the whole way, and his shame was enough to kill him. Gabe caught up to Sam easily.

"Hey, Sam. Wow, we have got to stop meeting like this," he said, clapping a hand on Sam's back. He hadn't seen Sam's face yet. He had no idea anything was wrong until Sam flinched from his touch. Sam tried not to, but he flinched anyway. All the humor left Gabe's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Sam nodded, not trusting his voice enough to use it. Gabe stopped Sam from walking with a hand on his chest. Sam tried to turn away from him. Gabriel gripped Sam's forearms to stop him.

"What's going on, Sam?" he asked. Sam looked at his shoes. He couldn't tell him. He didn't want Gabe to see his tear stained face.

"I hurt," he answered, not wanting to lie to Gabriel. His voice was thick with tears like he feared. It made Gabe tilt his face up.

"Sam, what's going on?" Gabe repeated. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't admit to how damaged he was. Gabe already had enough reason to be done with Sam. Gabe's eyes were filled with fear and concern, and it was killing Sam.

"I can't," Sam managed to get out.

"What?" Gabe asked, "What can't you do?"

Sam sighed through his tears and turned away from Gabriel. Gabe walked after him.

"Hey, Sam, c'mon. No holding out on me, remember?" he said. Sam shook his head. Why was Gabe even here? Why did he keep wasting his time on Sam? Gabe took Sam's hand.

"Come on," Gabe said, beckoning him into the nearest alley. Gabriel's hand felt too good to ignore. His gentle touch was such a contrast from Luci, Sam could barely handle it. Sam hugged Gabe tightly once they were in the alley.

"Gabe," he said, trying not to cry into his friend's hair, "Thank you." Gabriel hugged him back and rubbed Sam's back slowly and softly.

"Are you okay, Sam?" he asked. Sam tried desperately to stop crying, but answering Gabe made all the pain so much worse. No, he was really very much not okay. And it was all his fault. Dammit, he was so stupid. He sobbed into Gabe's shoulder.

Gabe kept rubbing Sam's back and said, "I'll take that as a no." He took a step back from Sam but kept a hand on his shoulder.

"You should sit and relax for a sec," Gabe said.

Sam shook his head, "I can't." Gabe cocked his head to the side at him. Sam had finally cried himself out and gingerly kneeled. It was the closest he could get to sitting without causing extra pain. Gabe crouched to be at level with Sam.

"Sam?" he asked, scared, "What happened?"

"What always happens," Sam answered.

"Where were you before I ran into you?"

"Luci's."

"What did he do?" Sam willed himself not to start crying again. Gabriel sat on the ground and patted the concrete next to him.

He hesitated. If he protested more, Gabe would figure it out, he was sure. But if he sat, it would hurt worse than what he could probably hold in. Sitting next to Gabe sounded like the better option, though. If anything was going to make him feel better, it was being closer to Gabriel.

He sat down next to his friend and couldn't help crying out. Pain shot up his tailbone and back.

"Sam?!" Gabe asked in alarm. Sam nodded and gripped Gabe's leg.

"I'm fine," Sam said, even though he was so clearly not fine. Gabriel gave him an unamused look, but it was soon replaced with one of sad understanding.

"Oh, Sam. I'm sorry," he said.

Sam shook his head, "It's fine."

"Did he—? How did—? Was it—? Are you okay?" Gabe asked. He reached for Sam's hand, and Sam met him halfway.

"Yeah," Sam said, "I'll be okay." Gabriel put his arm around Sam and pulled him closer. Sam rested his head on Gabe's shoulder.

"You know," Gabe said quietly, "If I don't punch Lucifer in the face at some point, I'm going to be very disappointed." Sam chuckled softly.

After a few minutes, Gabriel said, "It is fucking cold. We can go to my place if you want. Can you get up?"

Sam looked up at Gabe and nodded.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He didn't want to intrude on Gabe's place every time he had a bad day. Gabe slowly, carefully, helped Sam to his feet. Sam didn't want to let go of Gabriel's hand.

Gabe smiled, "Of course. I love having you at my place. Just make sure you text Dean since you should really stay the night." Sam nodded, thankful for the reminder, and pulled out his phone.

Almost to Gabriel's house, he turned to Sam and said, "I get why you didn't tell me. You can tell me anything, you know."

Sam smiled, "Yeah, I'm seeing that."

As they got to the door, Gabriel asked, "Was it consensual?" Sam stared at Gabe. There was no judgment, no pity, just concern.

"Barely," he admitted.

Gabe nodded, opened the door for Sam, and said, "Yep. Gotta punch that big bag of dicks right in the mouth." Once inside, Sam felt a little weird going from one guy's place to another. But being at Gabe's felt right. Being at Luci's didn't. He ignored the awkward feeling.

Sam lay down on the futon with his head in Gabe's lap. He started to fall asleep when Gabriel started running his fingers through Sam's hair. Sam almost moaned.

"I'm sorry," Gabe said, removing his hands quickly, "You should sleep."

"No, it's okay. It's kind of comforting," Sam said. Gabe quickly resumed raking his hands through Sam's long hair.

"You should know," Gabe muttered sleepily, "I'm sorry you're going through all this. I hate that you hurt all the time. You're my best friend, I care about you, and if you wanted to leave Luci, I'd help you however I can."

Sam nodded on Gabe's lap and said, "Thanks." But Gabe knew as well as he did that ditching Luci wasn't in the cards. And a new reason was starting to take root.

Sam worried about what Luci would do if he knew where he was right then. If Luci hurt Gabriel, Sam didn't know what he'd do. And Luci would hurt Gabriel if Sam left, because Sam would leave Luci if Gabe wanted to be with him. He knew it. He fell asleep with Gabriel hypnotically stroking his hair and wishing for a life that would let him be in love with his best friend.


	16. Evasive Maneuvers

What the hell was he going to do? Why did he always fuck up everything? What on earth possessed him to kiss Cas? He stared up at his bedroom ceiling and wished he had a damn time machine. He'd go back and punch his past self in the face for even thinking about kissing Cas. Dorothy knocked on Dean's door.

"Are you home?" she asked through the door. Dean opened it to see Dorothy leaning against the wall in the hallway.

"Hi," he said. Dorothy sighed, "What are you doing here, Dean? It's Wednesday."

"So?"

"School?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Can't," he said. He noticed how tired his roommate looked. He opened his door wider.

He asked, "Wanna sit down?" She nodded hesitantly and sat on his bed.

"So, why aren't you at school?" Dean asked, joining her on his memory foam mattress.

"Sick," she said, "Charlie made me stay home. What's your real excuse?"

"Didn't feel like going."

It wasn't a lie. He'd rather have watched his Impala get smashed all over again than face Cas at school after kissing him last night.

His phone rang from under his pillow. Dean grabbed it, saw who was calling, and popped the battery out. If he wanted to talk to Cas, he would've gone to school. Dorothy raised her eyebrows at him and his cell phone battery.

"Long story," he said.

She nodded and said, "You got any plans today?" He shook his head. After ruining the best friendship he'd ever had, Dean just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. Cas probably hated him by now, anyway. He'd taken their friendship and broke it in half. Why did he have to break everything? He was so stupid.

"Want to binge watch two seasons of Sherlock with me?" Dorothy asked, "Charlie keeps telling me that I have to experience it, and I have nothing better to do."

He shrugged, "Sure."

She smiled and coughed into her elbow harshly.

"Want some hot chocolate?" he asked her. She nodded and followed him out to the TV and the couch. He tossed her a blanket and made some hot chocolate.

After the gripping cliffhanger of season one, Dean also made some popcorn and more hot chocolate. It bothered Dean how much Sherlock and John reminded him of him and Cas.

At the end of watching Sherlock for nine hours straight, Dean, Dorothy, Charlie, and Sam all stared at the TV in awe. Charlie and Dorothy were holding hands.

Sam sat back and said, "Well, shit."

"What the hell?" Dean said, getting up from the couch to stretch, "How could he have survived that? How could they just end the season like that?"

"John should at least know what's going on," Sam said, shooting Dean a look.

"What?" Dean asked. He hadn't done anything to Sam to deserve a look like that.

"Some of us went to school today, Dean," Sam said evenly, "Cas says hi, by the way."

Oh.

How much did Cas tell Sam?

Charlie and Dorothy looked between them.

"What happened with Cas?" Charlie asked.

Dean shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it." He was so stupid. Dean retreated to his room. Sam followed him.

"Leave me alone, Sam," Dean warned. He really didn't want to talk about it. And the only person he wanted to talk to would never look at him the same way again. Those blue eyes would haunt him.

Sam said sternly, "You _have_ to talk to him."

"And say what?" he asked. He had a momentary lapse in judgment? He handled his feelings that he hadn't told Cas about in the worst way possible? Yeah, that'd go over well.

"I'd start with the truth," Sam said, "Seriously. Call him, text him, I don't care. Just do something."

Dean sighed, "I'll do something." It was quite unfortunate that he had no intention of doing anything other than avoiding Cas for as long as possible. He supposed that counted as something.

Sam fixed him with a hard stare.

"You'd better," he said, "Cas is my friend, too, Dean, and he deserves better than this."

Dean nodded. He knew that. Cas deserved better than Dean. He deserved so much more. He should never have kissed Cas. They could still be friends, Cas could find someone worth his affection, and Dean could be happy for him. Kissing Cas shot that all to hell. Now, Cas would know friendship wasn't enough. He'd want nothing to do with Dean. At best, things would be unbearably awkward and die that way.

And the next day at school, he was right. He wouldn't have gone to school, but Charlie all but physically dragged him to campus. His first class wasn't too bad. Cas didn't take Criminology, so it served as a good hiding spot for an hour and a half.

Afterward, the school was a minefield. Cas was waiting for him outside of his class. Luckily, Den saw him through the window before walking out the door and managed to duck and hide in a throng of chattering students.

This wouldn't have been necessary if he hadn't been so fucking stupid. And the kiss was so intimate. Dean couldn't shut his eyes without feeling Cas' lips against his. If he had just kept it a small, closed mouth, peck of a kiss, he could probably have gotten away with saying it was because he was drunk. There was no way that lie would stand given how it all went down. He hadn't even been that drunk.

His next class was more interesting. Balthazar stood outside the classroom door like a sentinel. He was definitely there on Cas' orders. Dean tried to slip passed him next to another student, but Balthazar grabbed Dean's jacket and stopped him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Balthazar asked quietly.

Dean answered, "Going to class." Maybe playing innocent would work.

The blonde man pulled him down a hallway and asked sharply, "What the hell do you think you're doing with Castiel?"

"We're just friends," Dean said.

Balthazar rolled his eyes, "Friends don't dodge each other like bloody pansies. Now, you're going to tell me precisely why Cassie would have me tailing you and ditching my own classes without even saying why."

"He didn't tell you?" Dean asked. Of course not. He was probably ashamed of the whole thing. Dammit, Dean really knew how to screw things up.

"No, he didn't," Balthazar snapped, "But he's been walking around like someone hit his puppy with a car. Tell me what the fuck is going on."

Dean sighed, "I can't talk to him."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

Dean knew there were only two outcomes from what he did. Either he'd be with Cas or he wouldn't. If he wasn't with Cas, they wouldn't be able to be friends, not after how stupid Dean was, and that would hurt too much. But if by some miracle, Cas did have feelings for Dean, and they would be together, it would only be a matter of time until Dean did something stupid again. He'd hurt Cas, and that would be utterly unbearable.

"Because I fucked everything up," he answered. He practically ran down the hall to get away from Balthazar. Unfortunately, his professor had a come-on-time-or-not-at-all policy, and he needed a place to hide. Any minute now, Sam or Gabriel would corner him and interrogate him about Cas. He needed to go somewhere that no one would ever expect him to be.

Ten minutes later, he walked passed the reference desk in the library. Quickly, he headed to the third floor. The first floor was mainly a lounge area, definitely not secluded enough. The second floor was a large computer lab that almost every student used. He'd be an open target. But the third floor. The third floor was the archives and some old newspapers. It was always a ghost town. No one would ever think to look for him there. He could kill an hour sitting around the archives. Maybe he'd take a nap.

As he got to the silent, empty floor, Dean realized a nap was just not going to happen. In the glass room that was the archives, there was Cas pouring over a box of old documents with his head in his hands. He carefully turned over each page, but his heart wasn't in it. He must have read the same aged letter ten times, getting more frustrated with each flip. Cas was so intent on his work, Dean didn't even worry about being seen.

Cas was just completely and effortlessly beautiful, so Dean watched him work. Cas' black hair and his pale kin were striking. His hair being so messy only added to the effect. His soft lips moved in small whispers as he read and reread the document. His hands were so very careful with the paper, like he was touching it with the utmost reverence. His focus was nothing short of endearing. He was perfect. Dean knew without having been to the archives before that this was Cas' element.

Every instinct told Dean to walk in there and tell Cas everything. He couldn't stand not talking to him. At the very least, he could apologize for that kiss again. But at the same time, he didn't want to disturb his friend. Or hurt him more.

Suddenly, an alarm on Dean's phone went off to remind him of a test in his history class. Shit. Cas looked up from the archives at the sound, seeing Dean for the first time. He hurried out of the room to where Dean was standing. But Dean couldn't talk to him. He ran from the third floor, from the library, and from Cas. This was not one of his prouder moments.

He couldn't afford to miss the history class, and Cas was undoubtedly going to be there. This would be one of the trickiest evasive maneuvers he'd ever pulled. But he had to do it.

There were only two ways this could end. Either they'd be together or they wouldn't. Either option would be painful for someone. So, until he found a new ending, he had no intention of talking to Cas. If he was being an ass, fine. At least he was hurting Cas now instead of later when more feelings and damaged would be involved.

He made sure to sit in the front between a girl he didn't know and a wall. Cas didn't like talking in class, but Dean didn't want to chance sitting next to him anyway. This was sparing Cas pain in the long run. It was for the best.

After probably failing the test, Dean rushed out of the classroom, ran passed a confused Cas, and left the campus.

He heard Cas shout after him, "Dean, wait!"

But he didn't.

And when Cas showed up at Dean's apartment looking for him, he hopped down the fire escape instead of facing his friend. He would hurt Cas either way. And he just couldn't deal with that.

So, he didn't.


End file.
